


paint me into a corner

by xlightless



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Family, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Magical Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlightless/pseuds/xlightless
Summary: Junhong flies into the city on a homemade broomstick and begins an apprenticeship in a magic tattoo parlor. Or the year in which Junhong finds a family in an apartment between a tattoo parlor and apothecary herbal shop.





	1. Chapter 1

At eighteen, Junhong leaves his hometown under a full moon, clear of any clouds, his duffel bag slung at his side. His stomach jumps at the thought of finding a new city and making a name for himself.

“I remember when I first came to this town…,” Junhong’s mother gushes before he takes off with tears in her eyes. She wraps him in a hug. “My feet landed on the soil, and I knew I was home. You’ll know when you’ve found yours.”

Junhong takes his earbuds out as he sails along the coast, the faint sound of his music blending with the ambient noises of the nighttime. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his first taste of freedom take over him. He sighs into the brisk breeze blowing against his face.

//

The next morning, Junhong flies into a city with towering skyscrapers and people bustling in the street, and maybe he falls in love. He’s never seen so many people at once. The buildings shimmer in the late morning sun, and the vibrant colors are almost too much for Junhong to take. A river runs through the entire city, nearly splitting it in half. He lands along the riverbank and makes his way to the main street.

The first thing Junhong notices is the way the people look at him, then the broomstick strapped to his back. They give him wary glances before parting for him, and he isn’t sure how he should feel. He walks into a cafe for a coffee and food, and he can feel the shift in mood as soon as he walks in. He’s immediately uneasy, but he’s already here, so he gets in line to order.

“What can I get you?” the man behind the counter asks when Junhong steps up.

Junhong notices the rough edge in the man’s voice. “I’ll… One coffee, please. And a breakfast sandwich.” He takes his wallet out to pay––he sees the man tense for the briefest moment in the corner of his eye––and bows his head when he takes the receipt.

Junhong curls in on himself as he waits for his coffee and food. He can feel every single uneasy glance thrown at him, and it almost makes him want to go back home. But he didn’t fly all night only to run away at the first sign of tension.

Regardless, when Junhong’s order is called out, he can’t get out fast enough.

Junhong keeps his head down as he walks down the street, his hands tightly gripping his cup and paper bag. He almost wants to hide his broomstick, which is something he never thought he’d feel in his life. He finds himself back on the riverbank, sitting on the ledge with his sandwich in hand and his broomstick lying beside him. His mother’s words echo in his mind as he looks out at the glimmering river in front of him.

_“You’ll know when you’ve found yours.”_

And Junhong sighs because he really wanted to love this city, but it’s obvious he isn’t wanted here. He digs through his duffel bag for a map to decide where to go next.

“Hey, you plannin’ on sweeping the chimneys with that?” a voice suddenly asks behind Junhong.

His heart sinks. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He turns his head, his stomach churning with nervousness. Three young men with nasty scowls stand before him.

“You’re a _witch_ , aren’t you?” the one on the left asks.

Junhong winces at the way he spits _witch_ , like it’s supposed to be an insult.

“Is he a mute?” the one on the right asks.

Junhong gulps. Maybe if he doesn’t talk, they’ll leave him alone.

The one in the middle crouches to reach Junhong’s level. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

Before Junhong can even react, the middle one reaches out for the broomstick. Junhong shoots to his feet, his eyes wide. “Stop! Don’t touch that!” He rushes to grab it, but the man shoves him back.

“You know, we don’t take kindly to witches in this city,” the right one says. He catches the broom as its thrown to him. “But that doesn’t seem to stop ‘em from comin’ here. Dunno why.”

“Please give that back,” Junhong whispers, suddenly powerless. His mind blanks. Panic takes over everything in him until the only thing he can think of is getting that broom back.

“What, you’re not gonna magic it away from us? Huh, _witch_?” the left one says. He grabs the broomstick and puts it between his legs.

“Wait, no––“ Junhong doesn’t finish the sentence because the man is launched off it, flying a solid ten feet away from them.

The two other men stare at him in shock as he groans on his back, then at Junhong, and anger flares up in their eyes, hotter and greater than the sun. Junhong doesn’t have the time to get away before the first man is tackling him to the ground.

“What the _fuck_ was that, huh?” He lands a punch on Junhong’s jaw. “Some fuckin’ _trick_?!” Another punch. “Who the _hell_ ––“ Blood bursts in Junhong’s mouth. “––do you think––“ Junhong tries to bring his hands up. “––you are?!” Junhong can’t see out his left eye.

“H-hey… Dude…,’ the second one says, his hand coming to the other’s shoulder.

“Get the fuck off him!”

The rain of punches stop, and Junhong takes that moment to heave in a breath. The weight on top of him lifts, but he can’t bring himself to get up himself. His head is spinning. The blood in his mouth is metallic and disgusting as it mixes with the taste of coffee still in his mouth.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Did you know I’m one of the few witches who have laser vision?”

“ _Bullshit_.”

“Try me.”

There’s a pause before the other one whispers, “Dude, not worth. Let’s just go.”

The first one scoffs. “Fine. Let’s get Kihyun.”

Junhong blinks and suddenly a young man is leaning into his peripheral. He smiles at Junhong, a mix of reassurance and pity. He holds his hand out, and Junhong gratefully takes it, groaning as he sits up.

“Are you alright?” the young man asks.

Junhong is touched by the warm concern in his eyes. He holds up a hand and leans over the river ledge to spit out the blood. He wipes his nose and winces when the back of his hand comes back stained with blood.“I mean… Considering I just got beat up? Excellent.”

The young man bites back a laugh and holds his hand out again. “Can you stand?”

Junhong eyes the young man’s hand warily. He wants to accept the help, but he just got beaten because he’s a witch. Can this man blame him for being a little mistrusting?

“I can help clean you up at my shop. I promise we’re friendly.” He smiles, still holding his hand out, and Junhong is nearly struck blind by how bright it is, glowing in the late morning sun as bright as the river itself.

Suddenly, realization dawns across the young man’s face. He leans a little closer to Junhong like he’s about to share a secret. “I’m a witch, too, don’t worry. We gotta watch out for each other, you know?”

The relief that washes over Junhong is immediate, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders leave. “Really?”

“Really,” the young man replies, his smile growing wider. “We should probably get you cleaned up now.”

Junhong takes the young man’s hand, grunting as he gets to his feet.

“There you go.” The young man squeezes Junhong’s hand before letting go. “I’m Yongguk, by the way.”

“Junhong.” He walks to pick up his broomstick, running his thumb over the sigil on the handle.

“Nice to meet you, Junhong,” Yongguk says. He points to the sigil. “That’s a good sigil. Deflection, right? Did you carve that yourself?”

Junhong nods. “Yeah. No one but me can use it. Anyone else is thrown off.”

Yongguk whistles, not bothering to hide how impressed he is. He points down the street. “My shop is just a few blocks down.”

Junhong walks beside Yongguk for a couple steps, but he has a question prodding the back of his mind. “Um, Yongguk-sshi, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Yeah?” yongguk glances at Junhong in the corner of his eye.

“Do you really have laser vision?”

Yongguk bursts out laughing, and Junhong feels his cheeks fill with warmth. “No. I was bluffing out of my ass.”

//

Yongguk’s “shop” is actually a tattoo parlor named the Illustrated Man (“After the book,” he said, “Thought the idea of a man with magic tattoos would be fitting.”) nestled in what is apparently a portion of the city dedicated to those who practice magic. It’s not a pretty neighborhood, but it’s…decent. Junhong follows Yongguk through the door, ignoring the stares he gets from everybody else inside. It’s a charming shop with artwork hanging from the walls and hip hop music plays from speakers hidden somewhere. The whole place smells faintly of incense and sanitized countertops that surprisingly isn’t terrible together.

“Bbang, what did I say about picking up strays?” someone asks above the music.

Junhong doesn’t know if he likes being referred to as a _stray_. He avoids the man’s sharp gaze regardless.

“ _Look_ at him, Himchan. Did you expect me to just _leave_ him?” Yongguk shoots back, signaling to Junhong.

Junhong looks up briefly and waves at the man behind the counter. “Nice to meet you.”

The man named Himchan gapes at Junhong. “Jesus, what _happened_ to you, kid?”

“I, uh… Got beat up,” Junhong mutters, holding his broomstick close.

Himchan scoffs before going back to scrolling and mutters, “Those motherfuckers.”

Yongguk beckons Junhong to follow him behind the counter and into a hall lined with other rooms––some occupied with a tattoo artist and the customer, others empty––to the very back into what looks like an office. He points to one of the metal folding chairs in front of a plain office desk littered with sketches and other documents, and then opens a cabinet behind the desk for a first aid kit. Junhong sits in the chair, his broomstick leaning against the wall and his duffel bag on the floor beside him.

Yongguk sits in the chair beside Junhong, setting the first aid kit on the desk. He nods to the duffel bag as he opens the kit. “Did you just fly in today?”

Junhong nods, following Yongguk’s deft fingers as he soaks a cotton pad with hydrogen peroxide. “Yeah. I’m starting my apprenticeship this year.”

The anger that flashes across Yongguk’s face is so instant, but so intense, that Junhong nearly flinches away, but it disappears before he can even react.

“And you thought this city would be a good start,” Yongguk says, swiping the cotton pad against Junhong’s temple. Junhong tries not to flinch away from the pain, but his immediate reaction is to jerk his head. “Sorry. Should have warned you beforehand.”

Junhong smiles. “I’m used to the occasional scrape.” He winces again as Yongguk brushes the pad against the deepest part of the wound.

“I’m sorry your first experience here was so bad,” Yongguk says, his voice suddenly softer. He sighs, throwing out the pad and grabbing another one. “It isn’t like this normally.”

Junhong shrugs, bracing himself as Yongguk brings the pad up to his face again. “I’m thinking of looking for another city…”

Yongguk doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Junhong looks into his eyes, trying to see what he’s thinking, but he can’t read anything. “What made you stop here?”

Why _did_ Junhong stop here? He sighs, fiddling with his thumbs in his lap. He thinks about the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw the shimmering buildings, the river, the vitality running through the very streets, but he doesn’t know how to say all that right now, so he just says, “I just thought it looked pretty.”

Yongguk smiles. He throws away the pad and begins cleaning the top of Junhong’s cheekbone with a new pad. “It is, isn’t it? That’s why a lot of witches end up here. Hell, that’s partly why I ended up staying here.”

Junhong’s eyes flick up to look at Yongguk, but he’s too focused on cleaning. “Even with the…” He can’t bring himself to finish.

“Even with the discrimination,” Yongguk finishes.

“Why?” Junhong can’t help but ask. He can’t see himself settling in a place that hates him––or at the very least visibly uncomfortable––with who he is. “What made you stay? Besides the picturesque view, I mean.”

Yongguk twists open a jar of ointment. “I found a family here.”

And if Junhong is struck by a flash of envy, he refuses to show it. He thinks back to Himchan leaning on the counter, chin in his palm as he scrolls through his phone. The _“Bbang, what did I say about picking up strays?”_ , and Junhong finally realizes that he isn’t the first _stray_. He wonders if Yongguk himself was a stray once.

Junhong’s heart skips a beat and his chest tightens. He’s lucky Yongguk found him. Maybe it was fate. “That’s respectable.”

Yongguk laughs as he swipes Junhong’s cheekbone. “Thanks?”

They’re both silent as Yongguk sticks the bandages on Junhong’s temple and cheekbone. When Yongguk is finished, Junhong gathers his things and stands up. Yongguk packs up the first aid kit and throws away the rest of the bloodied cotton pads. Junhong looks at Yongguk, but he can’t read the look in his eyes.

“I should get going,” Junhong says, readjusting the bag’s strap on his shoulder. He bows at the waist. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me walk you out,” Yongguk says, patting Junhong’s shoulder.

They walk back to the front of the shop, and Himchan waves at Junhong when he walks past. “See you later, kid.”

Junhong smiles and bows his head to be polite, but if he wants to get to the next city over, he should get going now. Yongguk stops at the entrance, his hands in his pockets. Junhong looks back, his hands gripping his broomstick.

“Are you sure you want to keep looking?” Yongguk asks with a small smile. “I was just about to say that your sigils would be good for our tattoos.”

It’s a tempting offer…but Junhong shakes his head, apologetic. “I’m sure.”

Yongguk nods, but Junhong can see the hint of disappointment in the way his smils falters. “Well, good luck, Junhong. Hope you find a good city.”

Junhong bows his head once more and gets on his broomstick. “Thank you.”

Yongguk waves before Junhong takes off into the sky. When Junhong is far enough up in the sky, he stops to hover a few feet above the tallest building, and digs around in his duffel bag for his sketchbook. He wants something to remember this city by.

But the longer Junhong lingers in the air, the longer his mind lingers on the offer Yongguk made him. He sketches out the skyline, the river in the distance and how it winds out of the city into the ocean. He stares at this city, wondering if maybe, just _maybe_ , he can carve a spot for himself in this intricate web of lives.

_“I found a family here.”_

And Junhong wonders if he could have the same thing.

He’s always loved working with sigils anyway.

Junhong stuffs his sketchbook back into his duffel bag and dives back into the city, the wind whipping around him, almost sharp enough to cut him. He slows down when he’s close enough to the ground, and rushes back into the Illustrated Man, his broomstick in hand.

Himchan is still at the counter when Junhong walks in. He looks up, his bored gaze turning into amusement when he sees Junhong’s flushed face.

“I knew you’d come back.” Himchan glances at his phone for the time. “A bit faster than I predicted, but you’re here.” He looks back and shouts, “Bbang!”

“I’d rather you not shout while I’m working!” someone else shouts from down the hall.

“Not my fault you forgot to put up the silencing wards!” Himchan shouts back. “Bbang, come out here! He came back!”

“It’s Junhong, by the way,” Junhong says, taking his broomstick and holding it in front of him.

“And I’m Himchan. Nice to finally meet you,” Himchan replies with a wide smile. “What’s your specialty?”

“Sigils,” Yongguk says, coming up behind Himchan and running a hand along his waist.

Himchan hums, the eyes turning to Junhong glimmering with curiosity. “Sigils? That’s impressive. We’ve been looking for someone else specializing in sigils.”

“I’d like to be your apprentice for the year,” Junhong says, bending at the waist into a deep bow. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, why he’s so hesitant, but he is, and he can feel his hands tremble around the handle of his broomstick. “Please.”

A hand lands on Junhong’s shoulder, heavy and warm and immediately comforting. He looks up to see Yongguk smiling at him.

“Welcome to the Illustrated Man,” Yongguk says, holding his hand out to Junhong.

Junhong straightens and takes Yongguk’s hand, finding himself smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a metaphor for gay youth thanks for coming to my tedtalk


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Yongguk and Himchan do is get an ice pack for Junhong’s eye. They get him settled on the couch in the back room. He sinks into the worn cushions, letting the ice pack sooth the pulsing around his eye. He didn’t even notice until he finally settled down.

Yongguk pulls up the metal folding chair in front of Junhong, crossing his legs and arms. “You ready for an impromptu interview?”

Junhong blinks and nods. Not the first thing he expected, but he isn’t completely surprised.

“What’s your experience with sigils?” Yongguk asks.

“Been studying them my whole life. The deflection one on my broom is a simple one I learned in middle school,” Junhong replies, and he knows he’s allowed a little bragging rights. “My family specializes in herbal and plant magic, but I’ve always liked working with sigils.”

Yongguk nods. “Easier to visualize the effects when it’s all laid out in the design, right?”

“Yeah! That’s exactly it,” Junhong agrees. He’s glad someone else understands. His family has always pushed him to work with plants and follow in their footsteps, but he’s a visual learner, and herbal magic is all memorization and constantly looking up which plants contain which properties. He doesn’t like working like that. Not to mention that he can never manage to keep plants alive for more than a week.

“How do you plan to contribute your sigils to the Illustrated Man?”

Junhong purses his lips. “Sigils are powerful symbols if they’re used right. Tattooing them on your skin is the most effective way to invoke their powers on yourself. I’ve never tattooed sigils before, but I’ve done stick-and-poke tattoos on my friends back in high school, if that counts for anything.”

Yongguk shifts in his chair, his eyes completely unreadable, and it makes Junhong nervous. “How do plan to improve through this apprenticeship?”

When Yongguk pulls on the collar of his shirt, Junhong notices half a sigil hidden beneath the shirt, just below his collarbones.

“Sigil designs. It’s simple enough to create the basis for a sigil, but making a suitable design out of it is the tricky part.”

“Is that it?”

Junhong frowns. What does Yongguk mean? There isn’t much to sigil-making besides…the actual designing of it. He’s afraid to ask Yongguk to elaborate, but Yongguk smiles, reassuring and gummy, and Junhong’s doubts are suddenly erased.

“You don’t have to worry. I was going to take you in regardless,” Yongguk says, leaning forward to pat Junhong’s knee. He stands up to stretch, and Junhong notices another tattoo Yongguk’s upper arm, peeking out just beneath his shirt’s sleeve, but it doesn’t resemble a sigil.

Junhong figures it makes sense for Yongguk to have some non-magical tattoos, but he’s still curious.

Yongguk grins at Junhong. “You already met Himchan, right? Let me introduce you to the last person on our team.”

Junhong follows Yongguk outside and into the hall. When they reach the front counter, another tattoo artist hands a customer a slip of paper.

He gives the customer a stern look. “Don’t skip out on aftercare. You might get an infection and the tattoo will end up completely fucked. Wash lightly and moisturize it with a thin layer of hypoallergenic lotion, and you should be fine. You can remove the wrapping in about five hours.” Then he smiles. “Got it?”

The customer smiles, skimming the piece of paper before pocketing it. “Got it. Thanks.”

The young man nods. “Good. See you next week.”

The customer walks out and the young man turns to look at Junhong and Yongguk. “What’s up?” He turns his gaze to Junhong, blinking and tilting his head. “Who are you?”

“I’ll be working here as Yongguk’s apprentice for a year,” Junhong says with a bow. When he straightens, he holds his hand out. “My name is Junhong.”

“Youngjae. Nice to meet you.” Youngjae takes Junhong’s hand, a little smaller than Yongguk’s, less calloused, with a grip that’s just as firm. “What’s your specialty?”

“Sigils,” Junhong replies.

Youngjae nods, giving a thumbs-up. “Just like Yongguk-hyung. Nice. He’s a good teacher.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Before Youngjae can head off again, Junhong asks, “Do you work with sigils too?”

“Nope.” And the grin that spreads across Youngjae’s face is giddy.

Junhong glances at Yongguk, but he only gets a fond smile and shake of the head in response. “Do you mind me asking then?”

“Hyung! Can I borrow you for a second?” Youngjae yells towards the back.

“I’m cleaning up! What do you need?” Himchan replies.

“Your body!” Youngjae waggles his eyebrows at Yongguk––who looks visibly unimpressed now––and Youngjae clears his throat. “Um, I just wanna show the kid your tattoos!”

Himchan walks out of one of the rooms, rolling his eyes, but when he stops in front of Junhong, he lifts his shirt. Junhong’s eyes widen, but he can’t bring himself to look away from the compass on the side of Himchan’s ribcage. It’s simple in its design, but what catches Junhong’s eye the most is the needle. It twitches like a real compass would, moving back and forth between north and northwest. He blinks, unsure of what’s seeing. There’s no way the contraction and expansion of Himchan’s lungs is causing that type of movement.

“You’re not imagining it. The tattoo really is moving,” Himchan says as he lowers his shirt.

“He was nice enough to be my first big project,” Youngjae says, the proud grin on his face unmistakable.

Junhong looks between Himchan and Youngjae. “Okay, but… _How?”_

“Technomancy,” Youngjae replies, and if it was possible, his grin widens. “I have a natural affinity with technology. I can animate the tattoos when I charge the tattoo gun with my magic.”

“He’s been getting pretty popular,” Yongguk adds, which makes Youngjae’s cheeks redden.

Junhong turns to Himchan. “How about you?”

“I work strictly with piercings,” Himchan replies, shaking his head, and Junhong finally seems to notice the array of platinum piercings in Himchan’s ears. “Either regular or enchanted. During sterilization, if the customer wishes, I enchant their starter jewelry with whatever charms they wish, like luck, protection, or cleansing. It’s a little like Bbang’s sigil tattoos, but sometimes people just want piercings instead.”

Junhong nods, looking at these people in front of him, and he can’t help but feel a little out of his depth. These people already have their lives set and their own specialized sets of skills, and he can’t help but feel a little envious. Though, he’s glad he stumbled upon them for his apprenticeship.

“Alright, let me show you where you’ll be staying,” Yongguk says, patting Junhong’s shoulder.

Junhong turns to Yongguk, a little more than confused. “You’re giving me a place to stay?”

“Were you thinking of living somewhere else?” Yongguk asks as he tilts his head.

And Junhong thinks back to the people living in this city, and how small the magic population really is. His stomach churns at the thought of being attacked again. “Not… Not really? I didn’t exactly think that far yet.”

“You’re in luck. We have one more futon in the apartment,” Yongguk says, squeezing Junhong’s shoulder before heading back to the office to grab Junhong’s things.

Junhong follows Yongguk to collect his things, and then through another door in the office leading to a staircase.

“Your shop is connected to an apartment?” Junhong asks as he climbs the stairs behind Yongguk. He remembers seeing a second and third floors, but he never thought it was an apartment space, let alone a space they all lived in. It makes sense, though, the more he thinks about it.

The higher they ascend, he swears he can hear faint music coming from further inside.

“Yeah. Bought it for cheap with my friend about…five years ago? It’s connected to the shop next door, too. Kind of a weird setup, but it worked out for us in the end.”

Yongguk pushes the door open into a spacious apartment loft, lit by the sunlight streaming in through large windows nearly spanning the entire height of the wall. Immediately in front of him is a living room area with an L-shaped sofa pushed into a corner facing a small TV, separated from everything else by a row of shelves. Yongguk heads to the left into a kitchen area just big enough for an island countertop, sink, stove range, and a fridge, and then past a dining table. A large portion is blocked off by divider screen panels, but if Junhong peeks through the slits, he can see a pair of futon mattresses separated by a full clothes rack. The only walled-off section in the other corner is probably the bathroom. Music seems to be playing behind the door.

“You’ll be in the loft upstairs,” Yongguk says, pointing at the narrow staircase beside the dining table, leading up to a loft. “There’s not much privacy around here, though, so… You’ll have to get used to that.”

Just as Yongguk steps on the stairs, the bathroom door slides open and a young man with a towel wrapped around his waist steps out, belting out a high note in the bridge of the song. When he sees Junhong and Yongguk, his––actually very impressive––high note turns into a terrified scream.

“Hyung! Jesus, you scared me! What the _hell?”_ he shouts, bringing his hands up to cover his chest. His eyes flicker to Junhong, his eyes widening, then he looks back at Yongguk. “Who… Damn, what happened to your face?”

“I got beat up,” Junhong mumbles, trying not to stare too long at the expanse of bare honeyed skin on display in front of him right now. It’s a bit much, and he doesn’t have much to cover himself if he ends up getting a boner.

“He’ll be working in the Illustrated Man for his apprenticeship year, so he’ll be living with us from now on,” Yongguk says, then he frowns. “Why aren’t you downstairs? Is everything okay?”

Junhong glances at Yongguk. Does this guy work in the Illustrated Man too?

“One of my potions blew up in my face so I had to clean up.” Near Naked Man turns to Junhong, and bows with as much dignity as a towel around his waist will allow. When he straightens, he gives Junhong a sheepish smile and shy laugh. “I’m Daehyun, and, uh, sorry this is your first impression of me. You kinda caught me at a bad time.”

Junhong bows back. “I’m Junhong. It’s… It’s fine. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too.” Daehyun smiles, tight-lipped and awkward, and slips behind one of the screens. There’s the rustling of clothes, and then he’s talking again, “I’ll be down in a minute, hyung, don’t worry. Jongup is a grown ass man. He can handle the shop on his own for thirty minutes.”

“I know. I was just wondering. I’m just showing Junhong his space in the loft,” Yongguk says. He nods to the stairs and begins walking up them.

Junhong gulps as he sees Daehyun’s silhouette slip into a pair of jeans behind the screen. Before he can see anything else, he rushes up the stairs behind Yongguk.

The loft is a smaller space than the floor below it, but somehow they managed to fit two more futons there. Shoved against the wall are two clothes racks bursting with clothes. There’s a small TV by another wall attached to a couple gaming consoles with controllers and wires tangled in front of it. It’s…a mess. Junhong doesn’t know how he’s going to fit in here.

“Huh. Well. I’ll let Youngjae and Jongup know you’re going to be here. For the time being, you can put your things here.” Yongguk pushes a pile of clothes to one side, making a small circle of space against one of the corners of the loft. “Yeah… Actually, we’ll help you get set up tonight. Come back to the shop with me, and I’ll show you how the shop works.”

“Alright… Thanks,” Junhong says, carefully placing his duffel bag and broom in the corner.

“Daehyun, we’re leaving. Tell Jongup to clean up his side when he has the chance, thanks,” Yongguk says as he walks down the stairs.

“Yessir,” Daehyun replies as he slides the screen back into place. He runs a hand through his damp hair, and grins at Junhong. “Welcome to our magic shitfest, kid.”

Junhong blinks, struck by the brilliance of it. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

Yongguk walks back to the door, and Junhong follows him. When they enter the Illustrated Man again, Himchan is speaking with someone across the counter and Youngjae is sitting in one of the tattoo chairs with a sketchbook in his hands. A couple other people sit in the chairs lined by the door.

“What were you thinking of, enchantment-wise?” Himchan asks as he gets the ear jewelry from a clear plastic case.

“How’s your eye holding up?” Yongguk asks. “You can probably take that ice pack off now. Don’t want your eye going completely numb.”

Junhong removes the ice pack, trying to blink, but a sharp sting shoots through his eye whenever he seems to move it. He can barely open his eye. “I’ll be fine in a week.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine. It doesn’t look horrible.” Yongguk takes the ice pack and puts it back in the mini fridge beneath the counter. “Actually, head to the shop next door. Daehyun should be there. Ask them for a healing salve. Jongup’s magic salves work wonders.”

Junhong nods, stepping out from behind the counter and towards the entrance.

“Alright, who am I helping?” Yongguk asks as Junhong steps out, the bell hanging above the frame ringing.

Next door to the Illustrated Man is what looks like a flower shop. The sign on the front reads _Jupiter Apothecary_ in a simple black font. The windows are lined with red planters with fennel, the leaves growing past the wooden slats. A chalkboard sign stands by the open door, reading _Potions and magic plants available only. Get your weed somewhere else. Also tell Daehyun who your dealer is._

Junhong walks through the open door, struck by a feeling of nostalgia and homesickness. The sight of the silver buckets full of flowers and the pots of ivy hanging from the ceiling remind him of home. The scent of brewing potions mixing with the lightness of the flowers and stronger herbs smell like his mother’s own potions room. Several rows of potions sit on shelves mounted to the wall.

“Oh. There he is.”

Junhong looks straight ahead and finds two young men, one of them Daehyun, behind the counter. Daehyun has his elbows propped on the counter, his hands clasped together, and then he waves at Junhong. The other man has a handful of empty jars that he’s pouring a bright blue potion into. He looks up, His eyes sparkle like an oceanfront as he pours the mixture into the jar, and the way the sun seems to splash on him, splattered with dark shadows from the hanging ivy’s leaves, leaves Junhong a little breathless.

“Jongup, your potion,” Daehyun says, leveling the pot in Jongup’s hands just before the potion overflows out of the jar.

“Hi,” Junhong says with a little waves as he walks up to the counter. “Yongguk said I should come here for a healing salve.”

Daehyun perks up, walking to the potions lined up against the wall. “Healing salve? Yeah. Hold up, lemme find it. This’ll get rid of the bruising in no time.”

Junhong is left at the front with Jongup, and Junhong thinks someone _this_ chiseled and well-built should be impossible, or at least illegal.

“You must be Junhong,” Jongup says with a small smile, and his eyes slip into crescent moons, and it’s _cute_.

Junhong isn’t prepared. He came from a small city with almost no one attractive or engaging enough to keep his attention, and he isn’t _prepared_. How could he have prepared for the muscles, the soft voice, the _gentle crescent moons of his eyes_?

Junhong is gay and helpless, and he realizes Jongup is still waiting for a response. “Y… Yeah. Uh huh. Sorry. I’m going to be working in the Illustrated Man for my apprenticeship year, and, uh… We… I’m going to be living with you guys during that time.” Junhong bows his head because he can feel his face growing red, and if he lets himself continue talking, he might say something stupid. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jongup laughs, and when Junhong looks up, he figures his heart probably skips a beat. It’s all just really inconvenient is what it is.

“I’m Jongup, but you probably heard from Yongguk already if he sent you to get one of my salves,” Jongup says.

Daehyun grabs a step ladder to reach the highest shelf and hands Junhong a stout jar with a label tied to the neck with twine. “Here you are. Just apply it every night on your eye and whatever else you got goin’ on there, and you should be about halfway healed already.”

Junhong takes the salve and bows at Daehyun and Jongup. “Thank you. It was nice to meet the both of you.”

Daehyun waves and Jongup smiles before going back to pouring the potion into the jars.

Junhong clutches the jar in his hands, and he hates how his heart is racing like some high schooler, but he thinks about Jongup’s smile and the crescent moons of his eyes and how melodic his laugh is and––

And Junhong takes a deep breath to calm himself before he pulls open the door back into the Illustrated Man.

“Oh, Junhong, good, you’re back. You mind showing me your sigil expertise?” Yongguk calls out as soon as Junhong walks in. “There’s someone here who wants a protection sigil. We have the basis for it already, just need to make a design now.”

“Sure.” Junhong goes behind the counter and looks at the paper between Yongguk and the young woman getting the tattoo. Her phrase is in all capital letters at the top: _I AM SAFE AND HAPPY_. He looks at the woman. “How do you define ‘safe’? Like… What does the word ‘safe’ mean to you?”

The woman tilts her head, then purses her lips. “I guess… It’s something only I can feel once I can do it myself… I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense.”

Junhong nods, looking back down at the paper. It’s a start. He takes the pencil on the counter and begins sketching the sigil. A couple minutes pass, and he shows her the result: a shield with a bow and arrow coming out the side.

Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee, and she smiles. “That’s… That’s perfect.”

Yongguk pats Junhong’s shoulder, the pride palpable between them. “Great. When can I schedule you for an appointment?”

When the consultation with the woman is done, Yongguk files the paper away, and then turns to Junhong.

“How did you know that’s what she wanted?” Yongguk asks.

Junhong shrugs with a grin. “It’s a basic protection sigil. More often than not, these people will want a shield, sometimes a bubble, something round and friendly to represent their own bubble of safety. For her, her form of protection was self-defense, not a space made for her.”

Yongguk nods, and the brightness in his eyes begins to dim, not enough to be noticed. “I see. And do you have pre-made models for every type of sigil you make?”

“I mean, no, not all the time, but I will base sigil designs around that, and then tweak them depending on the phrase,” Junhong replies. At least, that’s what he’s learned.

Yongguk smiles, and brings Junhong to sit in one of the chairs behind the counter. “Let me teach you your first lesson in making sigils for other people.”

Junhong tilts his head.

“Each person is unique, meaning that even if the meanings behind their sigils are the same, like protection or deflection, their sigils have to reflect who they are as a person. What if she hadn’t liked the shield or the bubble?” Yongguk asks. “What would you have done then?”

And then Junhong realizes his mistake. Because no matter how good he thinks he might at designing sigils, he still has a long way to go. “I’d ask her more about what she wants out of this sigil.”

“There you go,” Yongguk says, his smile appearing again. “You have a natural talent for this, but to hone your skills requires a little more work.” He pats Junhong’s head, ruffling the hair. “I’m looking forward to what you’ll make next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should have just made the summary "junhong is gay for all the b.a.p members" lmao 
> 
> so i said runes in the last chapter when i really meant sigils haha oops sorry about that. sigil making based loosely on [this](http://sigildaily.com/activating-rituals/)


	3. Chapter 3

After Yongguk closes up the shop for the night, he brings Junhong back up to the apartment. It smells like stew and home. Everyone else is already occupied with something else. Himchan and Daehyun are in the kitchen preparing dinner. Youngjae sits on one of the stools at the island, picking at the carrots that Daehyun is cutting up. Jongup is nowhere to be found.

“I’ll get your futon ready,” Yongguk says after he toes off his shoes. He walks to the pile of bins and other things stored beneath the staircase leading to the loft.

Junhong stands by the doorway, and he doesn’t even know where to put his own shoes in the pile by the door. He looks at Himchan, Daehyun, and Youngjae talking and laughing, and he can’t help but feel a little out of place. It’s something he doesn’t want to be feeling, but he can’t help it, and he hates that he can’t do anything about it.

“Hey, Junhong, sorry, but do you mind helping me out with this real quick?” Yongguk calls out.

And Junhong latches onto that. He walks to Yongguk, taking the bin from his hands. It’s heavier than it looks, and he nearly drops it onto his feet. Yongguk pulls the spare futon out from behind a couple more bins with a grunt, grinning at Junhong as he holds it up.

“You mind bringing that up? I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” Yongguk waves at the bins. “Once I find some…”

“Okay. Thanks,” Junhong says, taking the folded futon and climbing up the stairs. Because the futon is in his way and he can barely see past the first step, he doesn’t see Jongup in the loft lounging in his own futon.

“Oh, hey, need help?” Jongup asks.

Junhong nearly falls back down the stairs. He moves the futon to the side and finally sees Jongup. Shirtless. With a moleskin notebook and pen in his hands. It’s the start of every wet dream Junhong has ever had in his life, and it throws him for a loop.

Jongup stands up, closing his notebook, and swiftly takes the futon from Junhong’s arms. “Sorry you had to see our mess. We’re usually a lot cleaner, I swear.” And Junhong can hear the shy smile in Jongup’s voice. “This is your stuff, right?” He sets the futon flat on the floor by Junhong’s things. “I noticed the sigil on your broom.” He turns to Junhong with that smile, that completely disarming smile that makes Junhong’s chest ache. “It looks cool.”

“Thanks. It’s… It’s, um, a deflection sigil. No one else but me can go on it,” Junhong stutters out, and if he punches himself internally, Jongup doesn’t have to know. “I actually made the broom myself.”

Jongup’s eyes light up and he turns to Junhong’s broom. “No shit? Damn, my mother didn’t even let me near a broom until I was sixteen.”

Junhong snickers. He knows those types of mothers. Too overprotective of their children to even let them leave for their apprenticeship. Seems Jongup got lucky. “My mother made me get on a broom as soon as I learned to walk.”

“God, I wish that were me. My flying is _shit_ ,” Jongup says, rubbing the back of his neck as his smile turns a little shyer.

Junhong opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by Himchan shouting, “Food’s ready! Hurry up before Daehyun and Youngjae eat everything!”

Jongup rolls his eyes as he walks down the staircase with Junhong behind him. “We always have enough to feed us for the week.”

“Don’t underestimate their stomachs,” Himchan replies, which Daehyun and Youngjae squawk indignantly at.

Junhong sees Daehyun and Youngjae sitting at the dining table with bowls in front of them. Daehyun mutters something to Youngjae, and he gets several punches on the arm in response as Youngjae erupts into muffled laughter. Yongguk places a hand on Himchan’s waist, reaching up past his head into the cupboard for a bowl, as Himchan stirs the pot of stew.

“Hyung, get us some bowls too,” Jongup says as he grabs some spoons from a drawer in the island.

Junhong blinks, standing in the space between the dining table and island counter. Jongup grabs the bowls from Yongguk and pulls open the fridge. He peeks past the door to look at Junhong.

“Anything specific you want to drink?” Jongup asks.

“Water is fine,” Junhong replies, coming up behind Jongup. There’s a row of water bottles on a shelf, condiments on the door, boxes of leftovers on another shelf.

Jongup grabs two water bottles from the door, holding it out to Junhong. He also hands the bowl to Junhong.

“Here, give me your bowl,” Himchan says as he holds his hand out towards Junhong, his other hand lifting the ladle from the pot.

“Hyung, this tastes really good. Where did you learn to cook like this?” Daehyun asks.

“Thank you, but flattery will get you nowhere,” Himchan replies as he spoons soup into Junhong’s bowl.

“It got Yongguk-hyung into your pants,” Daehyun shoots back, almost under his breath.

Yongguk and Youngjae’s heads whip to Daehyun at the same time, their eyes wide, but Youngjae looks more like he’s trying to hold back a howl of laughter. Himchan hands Junhong his bowl and glares at Daehyun. Junhong fears for Daehyun’s life, but Daehyun doesn’t seem bothered. He smiles at Himchan, the very epitome of shit-eating if Junghong’s ever seen one before.

“You’re not getting seconds tonight, you ungrateful slut,” Himchan sneers to which Daehyun responds with a gasp.

“That’s what you get,” Youngjae mutters.

“Hyung, what the _fuck_ ,” Daehyun says with an offended sniff. “I thought I was your favorite child.”

“We all know Jongup is my favorite,” Himchan replies as he takes Jongup’s bowl, and then slaps Jongup’s butt.

If Junhong’s eyes flicker down to Jongup’s _very_ pert ass for a split second, is that his fault?

(He figures probably, but Himchan touched it, so who’s gonna blame him?)

Junhong sits at the table, silently eating his stew. It’s definitely something his mother has made before, and it reminds him of home. He should call his mother when he gets the chance. She’s probably worried about him.

“Hey, you never really explained how you got like that,” Daehyun suddenly says.

Junhong looks up, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Sorry?”

“What happened?” Youngjae explains for Daehyun. Yongguk looks at them, and Youngjae quickly adds, “If you don’t mind us asking.”

Jongup and Himchan join the table now, and they look like they’s waiting for the story just as much as Daehyun and Youngjae are.

Junhong looks back down into his bowl, watching the steam waft up into the air. “It’s fine… I just, um, ran into some bad people.”

Yongguk purses his lips. “That’s an understatement.”

Junhong hums in agreement before continuing. “They beat me. Well, one of them did when the other one flew off my broom… If Yongguk didn’t stop them, I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me.”

Junhong glances at everyone, and he sees differing reactions among them. Yongguk is carefully neutral. Himchan’s face is twisted in disgust. Daehyun stares at Junhong in shock. Youngjae’s hands shake as his grip tightens around his spoon. Junhong doesn’t see Jongup’s face, but he can feel the anger emanating off him in waves.

Junhong feels bad for bringing the mood down, but they asked for the story. What did they expect? He shrugs before saying, “It’s okay, though, because if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have met any of you.”

“It’s a hate crime, which is _supposed_ to be illegal,” Youngjae says with a frown and glares into his bowl. “I thought we were past this.”

In a perfect world, Junhong knows that witches will be accepted everywhere and magic can be fully integrated into mainstream society, but it’ll be a long time before that happens. There isn’t much he can do now.

Daehyun shakes his head. “To be fair, this city has one of the largest magic populations. We’re lucky we have a designated neighborhood. We’re already doing what we can just by living here.”

“Should we even be living in ‘designated neighborhoods’ anyway? Segregation isn’t the path to acceptance.” Youngjae shoots back. He blinks, his eyes widening and flickering between everyone. His gaze stops on Junhong’s right across the table. “Sorry. I tend to, uh, get a little passionate.”

“They’re good points. Unfortunately, there really isn’t much we can do right now. The road to change is slow, but something is better than nothing,” Yongguk says. “Though, sometimes it’s too slow to the point where it can be hard to tell.”

“Which is why we need to demand more change _now_ ,” Youngjae insists. “People need to be aware of what’s happening so young witches don’t end up like Junhong in the future.”

Junhong has never been good at conversations like this. He always ducked out of the room whenever something like this came up, but he can’t exactly hide away and wait for the tension to dissipate right now. He looks nervously between them, unsure whether or not he should intervene.

“Just leave them. They’ll talk it out eventually,” Jongup whispers to Junhong.

That’s when Junhong finally notices that everyone else is ignoring Yongguk and Youngjae debate across the table. They’ve gone quiet as they finish up their dinner. Junhong does the same.

//

Jongup was right. Yongguk and Youngjae talked it out, and soon enough they were back to joking around and discussing a new tattoo design for a client.

Junhong finds out one of the windows leads out to a fire escape which can be climbed to the roof. He brings his phone up with him and calls his mother, his legs dangling off the edge. He waits for her to pick up as he looks out at the glimmering city before him.

“Junhong?” his mother says, and she doesn’t give him much time to respond before she’s asking him questions. “Goodness, have you already found a place? How is it? Are you settled in yet?”

“Hi, mom. I started an apprenticeship in the city. It’s really nice here. I met a group of other witches. They’re friendly, don’t worry,” Junhong says. He continues talking about the city while also carefully leaving out the part about getting beaten. His mother would sweep him back into her arms in an instant.

“That’s good. So you’re all settled in now?” she asks, and Junhong smiles when he hears the relief in her voice. He can only imagine how worried she’s been.

“Yeah. The witches I met have their own apartment above their shops. It’s really convenient actually.” Junhong thinks about everyone and how nice they are. He’s always loved talking with his mother, and he finds it easy to talk about everyone.

When he’s done, his mother is silent for a beat before saying, “You don’t know how proud I am of you, Junhong. You’ll be able to live your life how you want it. Are you happy?”

Junhong considers the question for a moment. It might be to soon to tell, but for now? “I am.”

“Then I am, too. Good night, Junhong.”

“Good night, mom.”

When Junhong hangs up, he stays on the roof a little longer, if only to get lost in the city’s lights. Growing up in the country, he’d always look up at the sky to see the stars, and even though he can’t see the stars as well, the lights in the city come pretty close.

Junhong stands up and heads back inside.

//

Junhong wakes up early the next morning. He lies awake on his futon, listening to Youngjae and Jongup snore. He stares at the ceiling, watching the entire loft slowly grow brighter as the sun begins to rise. He eventually climbs down the stairs to the bathroom. When he looks into the mirror, he’s surprised to see the bruising around his eye has faded to a gross mix of violet and yellow. His cuts have mostly closed too.

Junhong touches the skin just under his eye and winces. Still sore. He sighs and gets ready for the day.

By the time he’s finished, he can hear movement outside. He slowly opens the door, peeking outside to see who else is outside. Himchan pours water into the coffee machine, yawning into his fist. When he puts the cup into the sink, he catches Junhong coming out of the bathroom and smiles.

“Hey. Didn’t think you’d be awake yet,” Himchan says. He waves Junhong over to sit in one of the stools at the island. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Junhong shrugs as he slides into one of the stools. “I mean… I don’t have much of a preference.”

Himchan looks into the fridge with a hum. “Well… Let’s see what we have.” He digs around, bending at the waist to look into the lower shelves. “How do you feel about eggs and toast?”

“Sounds good to me,” Junhong replies.

The coffee begins brewing, and the smell fills the apartment. It only reminds Junhong that he’s in a new place. His parents don’t drink coffee at all. Himchan takes a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs out.

“Himchan-sshi,” Junhong says.

Himchan pulls a face as he puts a pan on the stove, immediately disgusted. “Oh my god, do _not_ with the ‘sshi’. ’Hyung’ is fine, _please_.”

Junhong blinks, relieved that he didn’t really make Himchan angry. “Hyung.”

“What’s up?” Himchan smiles as he begins cracking eggs onto the pan.

“Yesterday, before I left to… To find another city… You said ‘see you later’… Like… It was like you _knew_ I’d be coming back,” Junhong says. He can’t seem to find the right words for it.

Himchan turns around, the spatula in his hand as he crosses his arms above his chest. “I’m… somewhat clairvoyant.”

“Oh.” Junhong’s eyes widen. He’s heard of witches born with slightly more supernatural abilities than most, but he’s never met one before. “How far into the future can you see?”

“Not very. My mother is more attuned to it, and it makes her a great businesswoman. I inherited it from her,” Himchan replies. He checks on the eggs before turning back to Junhong. “I can’t see… Say, twenty years into the future. Hell, I can’t even see what’s gonna happen next week. Just immediate events and possible outcomes.”

Junhong won’t deny that he’s fascinated by this. He finds himself leaning forward in his stool. “So… a few hours?”

Himchan shrugs. “Only few minutes to a couple hours, yeah. And only for people I’m closely connected to.” He stops to consider something, his lips pursing in thought. “And I guess people I’m going to be connected to, judging from how I saw you coming back to the shop. All in all, not very impressive.”

“So––“

“Daehyun, watch out for your chair,” Himchan suddenly says, looking past Junhong’s shoulder.

Junhong looks behind him, expecting to see Daehyun there, but he only sees the screens. A moment later, something crashes into something metallic, wheels slide along the wooden floor, followed by Daehyun’s groan. Junhong whips his head back to look at Himchan, his eyes wide with excitement.

“You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” Junhong whispers, leaning forward again.

Himchan grins.

“Are you showing off your powers again?” Daehyun asks as he appears from behind the screens, scratching his lower back. He yawns as he walks to the bathroom. “Don’t buy into it. It’s bullshit.”

“I saw you fall on your ass before it even happened,” Himchan shoots back.

Daehyun waves a hand as he walks into the bathroom. “And I’m saying you could have made money off telling people vague fortunes in a dark tent full of incense.”

Himchan scoffs, but Daehyun already closed the door. “What an outdated concept.”

Himchan turns around to flip the eggs over. Silence fills the kitchen, the sizzling eggs on the pan the only sound in the apartment. Daehyun leaves the bathroom and heads back behind his screens. Youngjae walks down the stairs, waves at Himchan and Junhong, and into the bathroom. Yongguk comes out of the other side of the wall of screens and comes up behind Himchan, pressing a light kiss to his temple.

He turns to Junhong after he’s poured himself a cup of coffee. He nods to his mug. “Did you want a cup?”

Junhong shakes his head. “I’m good. I’m not a fan of coffee.”

Yongguk hums, sipping his coffee and pumping a fist halfway into the air. “You’re the first teenager I’ve seen who doesn’t depend on coffee. More power to you, kid.”

Yongguk places his mug on the island and grabs slices of bread from the bag. He reaches around Himchan to pull the toaster from behind the coffee machine. “How many slices should I toast?”

“Six, I guess,” Himchan replies. He grabs salt and pepper from the shelf.

And it’s peaceful. Hearing Daehyun get ready behind his screens. Seeing Youngjae walk up to the coffee machine for a cup. Watching Himchan and Yongguk prepare breakfast for them. Hearing Jongup stumble down the stairs into the bathroom.

And the longer Junhong sits here, taking in the life moving around him, he can feel a sense of _home_ begin to take root here.

“Damn, you healed up real quick,” Youngjae says as he sits beside Junhong at the island. “Jongup’s salve is good, right?”

Junhong nods. “I was a little surprised, but I’m glad it works so well.”

“Man, he’s a fuckin’ prodigy. He’s been a great help around the shop,” Daehyun says. He grabs a slice of toast from the plate and heads for the door. “Thanks for making breakfast, guys. Can you have Jongup bring my egg down for me? Thanks.” Before he’s out the door, he says, “Jongup, I’m gonna open up shop!”

“Okay!” Jongup replies from the bathroom. “I’ll be there soon!”

Himchan places the eggs on each slice of toast and places the plates on the island.

“Yes,” Youngjae nearly moans as he pulls his plate closer. He stands up and grabs a bottle of hot sauce from the fridge before dumping it all over the egg. He holds it out to Junhong. “You want some?”

Junhong shakes his head and bites into his own piece of toast. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Jongup, come out and eat. Also, bring Daehyun’s egg to him when you go down there,” Yongguk says.

The bathroom sink turns on, and then Jongup walks out a few moments later. “Can’t a man shit in peace?”

Yongguk doesn’t get to reply because Daehyun bursts through the door, his eyes blown wide and chest heaving. Yongguk is at his side, concern lining his features.

“What’s wrong?” Yongguk asks.

“Your…” Daehyun takes a deep breath. “The Illustrated Man. It’s trashed. Someone must have broken in last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i try to make this as cliched as possible because a wise man once said “never half-ass two things, whole ass one thing” and i live to that motto to this day


	4. Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, Junhong looks out one of the windows to see a police car pull up to the Illustrated Man. He looks down at the sidewalk as Yongguk and Himchan talk to a police officer. Looking closer, he can see shards of glass scattered on the sidewalk with some stray pieces glinting in the sunlight on the road. He doesn’t even want to imagine what the shop looks like.

“That’s another repair taking up more time and money we don’t have,” Youngjae sighs as he finishes his breakfast. He downs the last of his coffee and dumps his dishes in the sink.

Junhong turns to Youngjae. “Another? You mean this happened before?”

Youngjae rinses his dishes before loading it into the dishwasher. “Yeah. Tattoos and magic? We’re not exactly the definition of subtle.”

“This isn’t the best neighborhood either,” Jongup says, and both Junhong and Youngjae look at him. “It could just be someone robbing the place.”

Youngjae shrugs as he wipes his hands. “Either way, it’s not fun to deal with.” He turns to Jongup. “Wanna bet which one it is? 2,000 won.”

Jongup purses his lips, then shrugs, holding his hand out to Youngjae. “Deal.”

Youngjae grins and shakes Jongup’s hand.

Junhong stares at them as they finish cleaning up their dishes. How many times has this happened for them to joke around about it?

“You want in? What do you think it is?” Youngjae asks Junhong.

“Someone broke into Yongguk-hyung’s shop… And you’re making bets…on the motivation behind it,” Junhong says instead. It’s not meant to be accusatory because he’s honestly confused. Why aren’t they more concerned about it?

Jongup snorts behind a closed fist, then clears his throat as he fights to control the amused grin on his face. “Sorry. It’s just… We know it’s serious, and it’s very unfortunate what happened to his shop.”

“But you gotta understand that it already happened. No matter what kind of magic we have, we can’t travel back in time to prevent it,” Youngjae says, his tone suddenly serious. He begins wiping the wet plates and stacking them on the shelves. “It _sucks_ that stuff like this happens, but it does, and we have no control over it. Shit just _happens_ sometimes, either in our favor or not, and this wasn’t in our favor.”

Jongup rolls his eyes and nudges Junhong. “He takes _one_ online psych class, and suddenly he thinks he’s the next Freud.”

“Freud is an outdated _prick_. He was sexist _and_ believed that magic would never be used in a therapeutic setting. Plus, his field of psych was _completely_ different from the one I’m talking about right now.” Youngjae shakes his head and wipes his hands one more time. “Come on, let’s get ready and go check out downstairs.”

//

Youngjae wins the bet. Jongup grabs 2,000 won from his wallet and places it in Youngjae’s waiting palm.

Junhong stares at the back wall where art prints hung on every empty space yesterday. Today, those prints litter the floor, and a messy _ARCANE DEMONS_ is sprayed in black paint all across the wall. Junhong’s chest hurts and his heart pounds.

“Arcane, huh? That’s new,” Youngjae says with his arms crossed above his chest. He nods, almost impressed. “They’re getting smarter. What’ll we do if they get even _smarter?”_

Jongup shrugs. “Guess I’ll just kill myself. Beat them to the punch.”

Youngjae holds up a hand for Jongup to high-five, which Jongup immediately does. “Good idea. You think Daehyun will join us?”

“Maybe.”

Yongguk comes up to them when the officer leaves and snorts when he catches sight of the horror on Junhong’s face, a little amused. “It’s not that bad. We’ve handled this before. Just gotta replace the window and paint over the wall.” He hums for a moment in thought. “How do you feel about murals?”

Youngjae perks up at the mention of a mural. “We’re painting over this? Can I do it?”

“I swear you were some disaster artist in a past life,” Himchan says, coming up behind Junhong to stare at the _ARCANE DEMONS_ in front of them. “You graduated with a degree in _arcana sciences_. How did you end up here?”

“Not my fault I’m naturally artistic,” Youngjae replies with a smug grin and shrug. “Thank my past life for me if you see him.”

Himchan rolls his eyes.

“I should go help Daehyun open up shop now,” Jongup says with a wave as he heads out. “See you guys tonight. Good luck cleaning everything.”

Junhong stares at the graffiti on the wall, and then at everyone beginning to break off to do something else. Himchan calls clients to inform them that the Illustrated Man will be closed for the week and if they’d like to reschedule their appointment. Youngjae gathers the scattered prints into his hands. Yongguk grabs a broom from the side closet, and begins sweeping the debris into a pile.

Junhong grabs the dustpan and holds it so Yongguk can sweep the pile into it. He looks at Yongguk, but Yongguk is too focused on sweeping up the smaller bits into the pan. “How are you guys so calm about this?”

Yongguk looks up, and suddenly, he looks eons older than his age, wise beyond his years. “How did you want us to react? Did you expect us to lash out and curse out society?”

Junhong shrugs. “I mean… I guess.”

Yongguk smiles, a little amused, but a little tired, too. “Where’s the use in that when we can channel that energy into something more positive? Sure, we’re angry, but anger can only take us so far. It’s tiring just going round and round. And I bet you Youngjae is already planning out the mural.” He nods in Youngjae’s direction, and Junhong sees that he’s muttering to himself, occasionally glancing up at the wall.

“You’re right,” Junhong says. When Yongguk says it like that, Junhong thinks he finally understands that this isn’t high school anymore. He’s not in a little magic bubble protected by his parents anymore.

By noon, the shop is mostly cleaned up. Yongguk and Himchan hung up an opaque plastic sheet over the hole where the window was an hour ago. Youngjae taped a _CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE_ sign in the door. Junhong walks back and forth between the dumpster and back door to throw out the garbage bags that has slowly been piling up.

“Pretty shitty welcome party, isn’t it?” Youngjae says as he hoists a black bag into the dumpster. “We’ll do something for you when we fix up the shop.”

Junhong blinks, his hands falling to his sides as he stares at Youngjae. “Oh… I’m just grateful you guys took me in…”

Youngjae turns to Junhong, his eyes wide. He slowly walks towards Junhong, his arms outstretched. Junhong tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing, and takes a small step forward. Without another word, Youngjae wraps Junhong in his arms, pushing Junhong’s head to rest against his shoulder. It’s a little awkward, not because of the abruptness of it, but because Junhong has to tilt his head at a weird angle to rest at Youngjae’s shoulder. But it’s also still a little awkward.

“Um?” Junhong says, not knowing what to do because Youngjae’s arms are tight around his middle and he doesn’t know where to put his hands.

“You pure, naive soul, too good for this world. Of course we’d take you in. Who are we to leave you out in the _street_ like greedy _capitalists_? We’re a loving, socialist family and we’re happy to have you,” Youngjae says, his hand coming up to pet Junhong’s head.

“ _Um?”_ Junhong repeats because this isn’t exactly going where he expected, and he still doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Youngjae, you’re going to scare him.”

Junhong looks up to find Daehyun walking out into the alleyway to dump a bucket of dirty water onto the pavement.

“I’m welcoming him, don’t question me,” Youngjae says, his hand still petting Junhong’s head.

Junhong doesn’t know what sort of look he gives Daehyun, but he kinda hopes it’s a little helpless. When Daehyun places the bucket on the ground, he thinks he’s saved, but then Daehyun wraps his arms around Junhong’s other side. And it’s not that Junhong doesn’t like it––it’s actually a little nice being sandwiched between them––but this isn’t exactly the first thing he would have thought would happen on the second day of his apprenticeship.

“Oh” is all Junhong can get out because as loving as his actual family is, hugging is usually something reserved for…other occasions? Like after resolving fights? Or sending your only son off to his apprenticeship?

_Oh_ is all Junhong can really think of because he’s discovering that when he actually lets himself relax, he actually…kinda likes it.

Like… Youngjae and Daehyun are warm, and they actually kinda smell nice––a bit of grapefruit mixed with rosehip and maybe some ginger––and okay, _maybe_ Junhong is a little gay.

“I was beginning to wonder what was taking you guys so long.”

Junhong looks up and sees Himchan standing at the Illustrated Man’s back entrance with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips that Junhong is beginning to see that looks _fond_.

“We’re welcoming him,” Daehyun replies.

“By the dumpster? _Really?”_ Himchan asks, his fond smile turning more into disgust. “A nice dinner would’ve been better, don’t you think?”

“Hey, what’s going on back here?” Yongguk’s head pops up behind Himchan’s shoulder. He tilts his head when he sees Junhong wrapped in Daehyun and Youngjae’s arms.

And Junhong is beginning to feel a little self-conscious, and maybe he’s getting a little too warm between them.

“The kids are warming up to the baby,” Himchan says, and it takes Junhong a few long, embarrassing seconds to realize that _he’s_ supposed to be the baby.

Yongguk hums with a nod. “That’s good. I’m glad they’re getting along.”

“Um, am I supposed to just be running the––“ Jongup stops just outside the doorway, looking up from his moleskin notebook, blinking owlish eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

“N-no. Not really,” Junhong replies, and he’s not even sure why he’s suddenly getting really warm and why his palms are suddenly _really_ sweaty or why he has to get out of this cage of limbs _immediately_. And then he realizes, upon meeting Jongup’s curious gaze, that, _oh_ _no_ , he’s _really_ gay.

“Your heart rate is elevated,” Youngjae whispers in Junhong’s ear like a robot reporting some inane fact, and when Junhong jumps up to look at Youngjae––because dear lord, how does he _know_?––Youngjae just laughs it off like he didn’t just figure out Junhong’s newest secret. He releases Junhong from his hug and so does Daehyun. “Just giving him a warm welcome.”

“Cool. Um, can we do that later? I need some help real quick with some potions,” Jongup says, pointing a thumb back into Jupiter Apothecary.

Daehyun picks up the metal bucket and walks to Jongup. “Yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

Jongup’s voice fades as they walk further into the shop. Junhong quickly throws the last bag of trash into the dumpster. Youngjae turns to Yongguk and Himchan, and Junhong swears there are _stars_ in his eyes.

“Hyung, can I go buy paint for the mural? I’ll also look into getting a replacement window, if you’d like,” Youngjae says. His hands go up in front of him like he’s imagining the wall in front of him right now. “I already have some ideas bouncing around in my head.”

“Yeah, sure. Here, take my card,” Yongguk says, fishing his card out of his wallet. Before he holds it out to Youngjae, he says, “Don’t lose it, alright?”

Youngjae snorts as he plucks the card out of Yongguk’s hand. “I’ll take good care of it, don’t worry. Thanks, though.” Before he walks back inside, he turns to Junhong. “Wanna come? I’ll show you around the city.”

Junhong glances at Yongguk and Himchan, and he’s not even sure why he’s looking for permission, but Yongguk nods anyway, and Junhong smiles and follows Youngjae inside.

//

“So. Jongup, huh?” Youngjae asks as he pulls the car up to a red light. He turns to Junhong with a wide grin bordering between mischievous and shit-eating.

“Um.” Junhong knows he can’t lie. His body reacted before he even realized what was happening, and Youngjae was the prime witness. There’s no room for plausible deniability because Youngjae was very _literally_ all over Junhong. There’s no coming back from that. Is that gonna stop him? “…I don’t… Know what… What?”

“Chill, dude, I mean who can blame you? Jongup is a _fine_ specimen,” Youngjae says, waving a hand. He eases on the accelerator after the light turns green. “I’d be on him like _that_ ––“ He snaps his fingers.”––if Daehyun and I weren’t exclusive.”

Junhong blinks. That means Daehyun and Youngjae are–– “Exclusive?”

Youngjae hums, glancing back to merge into the left lane. “Yeah. Polyamory isn’t apparently something that works for us. Great concept, just not for us. We found out we get jealous too easily.”

Polyamory is something Junhong has only heard in TV shows and textbooks in the form of misogynistic harems, not something mentioned casually in normal conversation as a legitimate form of a romantic relationship. He figures it must be his countryside upbringing. He agrees with Youngjae in that it’s a great concept. Minus the harem part.

“That’s cool,” Junhong says. He feels bad for (probably vey obviously) checking them both out, but it should be fine since he did it equally? “I mean, I can respect that.”

Youngjae suddenly points out the windshield at a giant statue and fountain structure in the middle of a plaza, a woman standing in a hanbok with her hands outstretched. There’s something kind in her shining bronze eyes that seems to be welcoming Junhong. “That’s Jeon Hyosung. She served as an advisor to the emperor during some dynasty or another–– I forget which one… But she wasn’t really acknowledged until like…forty-ish years ago? The emperor would have led the empire to ruin if it wasn’t for her. Not a lot of people know she was actually a witch. Clairvoyant, like Himchan-hyung.”

Junhong looks out the side window as they drive past the plaza. There’s definitely something motherly about her. “She must have been something… To be an advisor during that time.”

“It’s a wonder how she wasn’t burned at the stake immediately, but here she is,” Youngjae says. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel a couple times. “Anyway, back to the topic of _Jongup_.”

Junhong’s face goes red against his own will. “It’s… I mean… It’s nothing, really.”

“Junhong, look, I know your body is going through some changes, and that’s _perfectly_ normal. It’s all a bunch of hormonal changes and chemical reactions called _puberty_ , and––“

Junhong buries his head in his hands, unable to contain the embarrassment, as he curls forward in his seat, trying to make himself smaller than he is. This _definitely_ isn’t how he thought his apprenticeship would go. “ _Please_ don’t talk to me about puberty. This is awkward enough.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Youngjae asks, and it’s hard not to hear the laughter he’s trying to keep out of his voice.

“No,” Junhong replies, his voice muffled behind his hands.

“ _Oh_ , okay, okay. I got it now. You’re not used to this much teasing, are you?” Youngjae pats Junhong’s shoulder. “God, you really are a baby. No wonder we kept you. There’s something about you that’ll make anyone wanna coddle the _shit_ outta you. It’s the doe eyes and chubby cheeks.”

Junhong peeks at Youngjae from behind the spaces of his fingertips. “You’re not making me feel any better.”

“It’s called breaking you outta your shell. You know this apprenticeship isn’t just meant to help you develop your magic, right?” Youngjae says. “This is your coming-of-age story, the bildungsroman of your life. _Embrace_ it in all its embarrassing glory.”

Junhong lowers his hands, turning to face the road. That’s right. He left home so he can grow into a respectable witch in society. Even if maybe this society may not fully accept them right now.

“There you go! Life isn’t a perfectly plotted video game, so we gotta just roll with it. Take whatever it gives us and make something outta it.” Youngjae grins as he pulls into a parking lot. Junhong looks out into the shopping center. He didn’t even realize they’d arrived. “Now, let’s get some paint.”

//

The sun is already high in the sky when Junhong and Youngjae return from the store with paint. Junhong carries a can of white paint while Youngjae cradles a paper bag of bottles of acrylic paint in his arms. The Illustrated Man is strangely quiet when they walk in.

“We’re back!” Youngjae exclaims as the bells in the shop ring out. “Also, hyung, I wasn’t able to find a window! No one wants to touch us!”

“Figured that’d happen,” Yongguk replies, coming up from underneath the counter. He brushes the dust away from his knees. “I already called someone. They’ll be here tomorrow with a new window.”

“Sounds good,” Youngjae replies. He nods to Junhong with a grin. “Let’s get set up, shall we?”

Junhong places the can by the wall, and he hates how his gut still churns at the _ARCANE DEMONS_. He knows he should be over it like everyone else, but he’s been a witch his whole life––has known his whole life––and for someone to just…reduce his entire being to just this one thing and then insult it… Junhong’s chest hurts, deep and throbbing. Youngjae must see Junhong’s face because once he’s done laying the plastic cover down on the floor, he hands Junhong a thick paintbrush.

“Would you like the honor of painting over it?” Youngjae asks. He bends down to open and stir the can of paint.

Junhong doesn’t hesitate to dip the brush into the paint and drag the brush over the spray paint. There’s something relieving and satisfying in seeing the paint completely cover everything.

And Junhong realizes that maybe he can do the same for his own life. This is his chance to create something beautiful out of the canvas of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot who? i only know my self-indulgent stream of consciousness


	5. Chapter 5

Yongguk holds a grapefruit in front of Junhong with a grin on his face. Junhong looks up from his sketchbook where he he’d been drawing Youngjae sitting on the floor. Half of the mural is already colored in, and barely a week has passed. The nighttime cityscape Youngjae had planned out in his own sketchbook is transferring nicely to the wall.

Junhong stares at the grapefruit in Yongguk’s hand, blinking. “Um? What’s that for?”

“I’m showing you how to tattoo a grapefruit today,” Yongguk replies. He tosses the fruit at Junhong, and he just barely catches it in his hands. His pencil drops to the counter with a clatter. “Follow me.”

Junhong closes his sketchbook and stands up. He glances at Himchan, then Youngjae, but they’re too busy to pay any more attention to him. Himchan talks to the guys installing the alarm system by the door. Youngjae holds a miniature artist’s palette in one hand, some of the colors mixing in the middle space.

“You’ll wanna pay attention. It’s not like tattooing an actual human, but it’s a start,” Youngjae suddenly says. He dips the fine-tipped paintbrush into the green paint, swirling a little white paint into it. “The closest to human skin you’ll ever get.”

“Oh… Okay.” Junhong stares at the grapefruit in his hands. His fingers brush over the rind. If he doesn’t look at it, he will agree that it almost feels like skin. Weirdly smooth skin.

Yongguk leads Junhong into one of the rooms. He signals to the tattoo chair as he pulls up two stools beside it. “If you’ll please place the client on the chair.”

Junhong puts the grapefruit on the chair as Yongguk snaps on latex gloves. Yongguk opens an alcohol pad, swiping the surface of the grapefruit several times. “The most important thing is to keep your environment as sterile as possible. You’re essentially stabbing your client every time you tattoo them. Your responsibility to them is to make sure they don’t get an infection while they’re here. Once they’re out the door, that’s their responsibility to take care of it.”

Junhong leans over Yongguk’s shoulder to look.

“You can sit in the other stool. That’s why I brought it,” Yongguk says with a chuckle. He takes the tattoo gun, his hands moving too fast and changing too many parts for Junhong to keep up. “I’ll teach you about the machinery in a bit.”

“Alright,” Junhong says as he sits on the stool. He watches Yongguk prep the grapefruit for its first tattoo, deft fingers flying over machinery and metal parts. Before he knows it, Yongguk has the grapefruit in his left hand and the tattoo gun in his right, the needles hovering just inches from the surface.

“You ready?” Yongguk asks.

Junhong nods.

It starts with a _click, whir,_ and finally that familiar _buzz_ of the tattoo gun before Yongguk presses the needles into the grapefruit. The buzz of the gun quickly fills the entire room. Junhong realizes that he’s fascinated by the way the needles dig into the skin and inject tiny black dots into the skin. He knows that professional tattooing is completely different from the DIY stick-and-poke tattoos he’s done on his friends before, but he’s fascinated nonetheless.

“When you’re tattooing somebody, unlike the grapefruit, sometimes the body will stop taking the ink. Especially for larger tattoos, the body will recognize that it’s undergoing prolonged exposure to trauma, so it begins to react a little differently than when you first started out. That’s when you need to stop and set up another session. There’s nothing you can do about the body’s natural response.”

Junhong sees Yongguk trace a simple star into the grapefruit, then as he begins shading it in. “How do you know when that happens?”

“Um… Bleeding more, definitely. If it’s a longer session, the client might begin fidgeting more too. They probably won’t admit it, but everyone has a limit for how long they can withstand the pain. But usually, you can break up larger tattoos into separate sessions during the consultation anyway.” Yongguk focuses on one spot, and Junhong notices how the surface begins to give, how it almost looks like Yongguk is carving into the peel now.

Junhong is mesmerized. He doesn’t know how much time passes between them, but he finds a sort of satisfaction in the quiet way Yongguk works. Watching Yongguk makes Junhong realize how lucky he is. He really lucked out when Yongguk found him by the river. He’s not pleased with the situation in the city, but…minor details? He can look past that. Sometimes.

“And there you go. A star for our client,” Yongguk eventually says. He clicks the tattoo gun off, and the room seems to ring out in the silence. He holds the grapefruit towards Junhong with a grin. “Want to learn about the parts of a tattoo gun?”

“Hell yeah,” Junhong whispers, leaning forward unconsciously, his eyes going wide.

Yongguk turns back to the tattoo gun, his hands taking it apart. “This is the front spring…”

//

The rest of the day consists of Yongguk teaching Junhong the various ins and outs of the shop, their tattooing process, consultations, all the good technical stuff. Nearing mid-afternoon, Junhong sits on the plastic sheet beside Youngjae on the floor, his back to the hallway and his sketchbook in his lap. He sketches Youngjae’s side profile, glancing up every so often to capture the way Youngjae’s eyebrows furrow in concentration, the way he bites down on his brush to press a wet sponge against the paint.

There’s something alluring about Youngjae’s gaze as he examines the spot where he’s painting in the details.

“That’s really impressive.”

Junhong jumps about a foot into the air as he feels Daehyun’s hot breath brush against the side of his neck. He turns around, eyes wide as he tries to calm his racing heart. “Oh my _god_. Where did you come from?”

Daehyun laughs at Junhong’s face. “Don’t look so surprised. The shops are connected by the back staircase. Anyway, how’s everything going?”

“Um… Fine. A little uneventful. Yongguk hyung showed me how to tattoo a grapefruit.” Junhong eyes drift down to the bottle in Daehyun’s hand, blinking curiously. An opaque teal liquid swirls inside. “What’s with the bottle?”

“A gift,” Daehyun replies, pulling up a stool from underneath the counter to sit.

Youngjae snorts as he swipes a brush over the river in dark blue. He glances back to look at Junhong and Daehyun with an eyebrow raised. “My ass. You’ve been experimenting again. I can tell from the way you’re talking.”

“Well, it’s unethical to give it to my customers,” Daehyun replies, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I usually give them to Jongup, but I already gave him one today.”

“And how’d that turn out?” Youngjae asks, genuinely curious.

“It was just a metabolism booster, don’t worry about it.” Daehyun then wiggles his eyebrows as his grin turns mischievous. “You want me to make you something that’ll make your dick bigger?”

Junhong is left speechless at how quickly Youngjae shoots back with an equally unimpressed “Your ass can barely handle my dick right now.”

Daehyun nods solemnly. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Junhong, don’t drink it if you know what’s good for you,” Youngjae says, turning back to the mural. “Literally _anything_ could happen to you. Probably not good.”

Daehyun holds the bottle up to Junhong with a grin. “You could drink it over the toilet if you’re scared you’ll throw up.”

Junhong stares at the bottle for a moment longer. He’s a little curious, and _maybe_ he’s a little bored. “Yeah, okay, sure. Why not?”

Daehyun cheers. Youngjae turns back to look at them with eyes that look like they’ll pop out at any moment.

“Oh my god, you’re _not_ ––” Youngjae sighs in disbelief. He places his paintbrush and palette down. “Actually, you know what? This might be good. I wanna see if you end up growing horns.”

Now Junhong feels a little more self-conscious. He pops open the cap. He sniffs the liquid. It smells...sweet. Like strawberry ice cream on a summer day. It makes Junhong think of a grassy field, staring up into a bright baby blue sky.

And Junhong takes a sip. It’s not strawberry, like he'd been expecting. It's almost something else entirely. He can taste hints of something like…boba? _Without_ the actual tapioca? It’s a familiar taste that brings him back to his childhood. He first looks at Youngjae, then Daehyun, both of them wearing varying levels of expectation on their faces.

“Well?” Daehyun asks, leaning forward.

“Why do I taste boba?” is the first thing Junhong asks, tilting his head. “Did you put boba in here? Where is it?”

Daehyun grins. “So that’s what you taste? Jongup said he tasted coffee.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Junhong asks. He takes another sip. He’s somehow still getting the taste of boba without the actual boba. It’s a little disconcerting.

Youngjae narrows his eyes. “I thought you gave him a metabolism booster.”

“It _is_ a metabolism booster. But that’s not the experiment. Its scent and taste change depending on the person. Jongup smelled rain and tasted coffee. Very city boy, if you ask me,” Daehyun replies. He nods to Youngjae. “Wanna try?”

“But how does it…“ Youngjae sniffs the liquid, but he doesn’t take a sip. “Lemons. Lemonade?”

“Sour as always,” Daehyun says with a laugh, and Youngjae glares at him. “The magic senses your inner aura and changes according to it. I’m just trying some things out because not everybody is super into the taste of herbs, surprisingly.”

Youngjae scoffs, handing the bottle back to Daehyun. “Yeah, okay. They shouldn’t go into your shop in the first place if they don’t like the taste of _tea_.”

Daehyun shrugs. “It’s called playing to supply and demand, sweetie.”

“Call me sweetie again and you’re getting a face full of paint,” Youngjae sneers, but faced against Daehyun’s nearly blinding smile, it doesn’t hold the same effect.

And suddenly, like the roar of a storm during typhoon season, Junhong’s stomach begins growling. His face reddens as he slowly curls in on himself. Youngjae and Daehyun turn to look at him, and he gives them a shy smile.

“I got…really hungry all of a sudden,” Junhong says as his face only grows redder. He hates the flaring warmth reaching all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Actually, Jongup’s about to pick up some food. Why don’t you go with him?” Daehyun asks. He begins tugging Junhong to his feet.

Junhong shakes his head, desperately trying to get out of Daehyun’s hold. “I should probably… Should… I can just stay here.”

Youngjae shakes his head, and Junhong swears he can see the wickedness behind Youngjae’s grin. “No, no, you should go with him. Get some food. When was the last time you ate today?”

Junhong opens his mouth to protest, but his stomach rumbles again before he can say anything. He looks down at the _traitor_ in disbelief. The _audacity_ of his own body to _betray_ him like this. Daehyun takes that moment to tug Junhong to his feet and ushering him back to Jupiter Apothecary, where Jongup is already walking out. He looks at Daehyun and Junhong with a smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks as he spins the keyring around his finger. His eyes drift down to the potion in Daehyun’s hand, then he looks at Junhong. “He made you drink it, didn’t he?”

Junhong nods.

“Take Junhong with you,” Daehyun just says, his hand moving to Junhong’s back to push him a little.

Jongup shrugs, catching the keyring in his hand as he nods to the car parked at the curb. “Sure.” They get into the car and Junhong swears he catches a whiff of Jongup as he slides into the driver’s seat. A hint of rosemary? Ginger? Something else almost…floral? “What did the potion taste like to you?”

Junhong had gotten so lost trying to figure out individual aspects that make up this weird combination of Jongup’s scent that he nearly misses Jongup’s question. “Sorry, what was that?”

“What’d you taste in the potion?” Jongup asks as he drives onto the main road.

“Oh. Boba,” Junhong replies, and the next sentence that comes out of his mouth seems to come out of its own volition. “I was surprised, but I mean it’s not the first time I’ve been surprised by the lack of balls in my mouth.” He doesn’t even realize what’s he’s saying until he’s halfway through the sentence, but there’s no use in stopping now.

Jongup nearly veers off the road as he chokes out what sounds like a laugh. They stop at at a red light and he rests his forehead on the steering wheel, his shoulders trembling. “Oh my god.” He leans back in his seat. He looks to Junhong with what looks like half a smirk as he tries to stop laughing, and Junhong _refuses_ to admit that his heart skips a beat. “I didn’t expect you to say something like that, sorry.”

Junhong drops his mouth and holds a hand to his chest, gasping in mock hurt. “I don’t look like the type of guy to make a good ball joke? Is it because I’m the baby? I’ll have you know that I graduated with the extremely honored superlative ‘Most Likely to Suck Off a Sexy Anime Character Given the Chance’. Off the yearbook, but _still_.”

“You what?” Jongup asks, keeping his eyes on Junhong, and misses when the light turns green.

Junhong blinks because suddenly the look in Jongup’s eyes changes, just enough for Junhong to see that maybe they aren’t joking anymore. “The.. The light––“

A car honking behind them breaks the tension, and Jongup seems to snap out of a trance as he presses on the gas pedal.

“So, there’s this new burger place that just opened up a couple more blocks down. Wanna try it out with me?” Jongup suddenly asks.

Junhong blinks because did he imagine the look in Jongup’s eyes? Are his feelings and wishful thinking manifesting into his conscious level? “Yeah. Sure. I’m down for anything.”

“Cool,” Jongup says with a small nod.

//

The burgers aren’t the best. The meat is burned and dry, and the fries are a little soggy. They get about halfway through their meals when Jongup looks at Junhong with an apologetic smile.

“This is kinda shit, isn’t it?” Jongup asks.

Junhong nods, swallowing another charred bite of his burger. It’s not that bad if he really ignores the burned crunchy bits––which is everywhere. “Yeah, a little bit.”

Jongup stands up, pulling Junhong up with him. “Alright. Let’s go. I know a good restaurant just down the block. I swear it’s better than this.”

“I think anything would be better than this at this point.” Junhong lets himself be pulled by Jongup outside and down the street.

And Junhong finds himself really liking how soft and warm Jongup’s hand feels in his own.

//

Junhong wakes up the next morning to Youngjae waking him up. His consciousness begins to surface, and he can hear someone cooking in the kitchen. Someone else is moving around in their loft, probably getting changed, judging by the sound of rustling clothes.

“Junhong, get up. Gotta work today,” Youngjae says with a yawn. There’s the soft sound of a foot meeting with a body.

The lump laying in the futon beside Junhong’s groans and shifts beneath the blankets. “Stop kicking. Not Junhong.”

That voice sounds a lot like Junhong’s, but also not. Like he’s listening to it from someone else.

“What?” Youngjae says.

Junhong sits up, his mind still too clouded with sleep to register how different his body feels. How blurry his eyesight suddenly is. How different his voice sounds coming from his mouth. “I’m right here, Youngjae hyung.”

“Oh my god,” Youngjae whispers. His hand flies to his mouth, barely able to hold back his laughter. He’s suddenly running down the stairs, shouting, “Jung Daehyun! You _really_ fucked up this time!”

Junhong hears sound of a body falling to the floor followed by the screen panels moving, and finally a confused, “What? What happened?”

“Oh my god, _no_. Jung Daehyun, fix them _immediately_ ,” Himchan’s voice floats up from the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Yongguk asks.

Junhong looks around the loft, scratching his head. He just woke up and he’s still really confused. He rubs his eyes with his palms––that suddenly don’t feel like his own.

“Damn, why are they so loud,” Jongup grumbles, turning his body. He tucks his blanket under his chin, and that’s when the pieces click together in Junhong’s mind.

He’s staring at himself.

“Hyung,” Junhong whispers, and suddenly he realizes that this isn’t his voice. He reaches out towards Jongup, his fingers trembling. “Hyung, you need to wake up.”

“Why––“ Jongup begins to grumble as he opens his eyes, _Junhong’s_ eyes, but then realization seems to dawn on him. He shoots up, the blanket falling off his shoulder. “Oh my god.”

Junhong can only nod in shocked silence.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jongup mutters. He looks over the railing down into the rest of the apartment, roaring, “Daehyun! What the _hell_ did you do?!”

And it’s a little disconcerting at first because Junhong has never heard his own voice yell like that before, let alone _Jongup_ yelling like that.

Junhong joins Jongup at the railing, and sees everybody else looking up at them, all of their reactions ranging from horrified to absolutely delighted (courtesy of Youngjae). Daehyun, however, has an offended look on his face.

“Choi Junhong, where did your _manners_ go?“ Daehyun asks.

“That’s Jongup hyung right now,” Junhong replies, and Daehyun’s eyes go wide as he begins to realize too. “Hyung, I think your potion made us switch bodies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, this is probably going to be my last update for the month bc i got exams next week, and then a con right after that and i'm all about cramming cosplays a week before the con mmm i love procrastination


	6. Chapter 6

When he was younger, Junhong used to tease his friends by stealing their glasses and holding up his fingers, asking them with a snide grin, “How many fingers do you see?” as they struggled to get their glasses back.

Now, Junhong realizes that he couldn’t have been more wrong about the visually impaired. Looking at the world through Jongup’s eyes––which are _very_ nearsighted––he realizes that when people say _blurry_ , they mean _blurry_ like a video that’s still buffering in 280p quality. More like a Monet and less like a Picasso. He can see the general shapes of things, just…fuzzier than normal.

As Yongguk and Himchan scold Daehyun downstairs, Junhong squints at his hand––well, Jongup’s hand––and is continually fascinated every time the edges get less blurry.

“I had no idea you were nearsighted,” Junhong says, still in bed.

“Probably because you’ve never seen me put my contacts in,” Jongup replies. He’s rummaging through his things, piling them in different places as he apparently seems to be looking for something. “Dammit, I can’t find my glasses.” He stops searching to look at Junhong. “You might need to use my contacts. Do you know how to put them in?”

Junhong sits up, squinting at Jongup and only seeing a blur. It’s definitely weird for him to be staring directly at himself _not_ through a mirror, and he imagines it’s the same for Jongup.“No. I mean, I’ve never even used glasses in my life besides as an accessory.”

“Must be nice,” Jongup says. He leans back, looking across the semi-circle of things he’s surrounded himself in like a nest. “I’ll keep looking for my glasses, but you should probably start looking up how to put contacts in.”

“Well, I mean… You’re the expert. Can’t you teach me?” Junhong asks, tilting his head. He blinks, just realizing how rude that sounds. “Wait, sorry, that came out sounding really whiny.” He begins to reach for his phone.

Jongup stops searching and turns to Junhong again. “No, you’re right. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Jongup begins walking down the stairs, and Junhong is forced to follow him. He tries not to trip over his own feet, his hand trailing the wall to give him a guide.

“Hey, you two should eat breakfast,” Himchan says as soon as they reach the bottom floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire,” Jongup replies in a deadpan sarcastic voice that Junhong doesn’t think suits his own voice. Everybody begins to move towards them as panic spreads through them, but Jongup snorts. “Just kidding. We’ll eat in a minute. We just have to get my contacts in.”

“Jongup, what the _hell_ , man? I thought I fucked up _again_ ,” Daehyun groans, sinking into the stool by the island.

“You should be looking for a reversal potion, hyung,” Jongup says before closing the bathroom door behind Junhong.

And Junhong is just now realizing how _tiny_ the bathroom is. And he’s just now realizing the several centimeters he has over Jongup’s height. Standing this close to himself, he can imagine Jongup laying his head on his shoulder, just… _so_ easily. It’s almost like their heights were perfectly aligned to do that.

“You’re kinda short,” Junhong says before he can even think to stop himself.

“And I’ll kick you in the shins,” Jongup says without missing a beat as he washes his hands.

“Sorry! I didn’t… I didn’t mean it. Like that,” Junhong stutters out, but there’s no saving himself from that.

Jongup looks up into the mirror at Junhong, almost smiling a little in what is probably amusement. Junhong can’t see that well. “You know you’re just freakishly tall, right? What’d your parents even feed you?”

Junhong shrugs. “Probably one of my mom’s potions.”

Jongup hums, drying his hands with the towel above the sink. “Oh yeah, you come from an apothecary family, don’t you?”

“Yeah. My mom wanted me to be like her, but I can never manage to keep a plant alive for more than a week.” Junhong laughs quietly, a little self-deprecating. “So there’s no way I would have been able to fill a little greenhouse full of plants.”

Jongup stops and faces Junhong, and if he didn’t know any better––and maybe a little less blind––he’d have thought that maybe there was something hopeful glinting in Jongup’s eyes. “Do you think your mom knows about anything to reverse this?”

“Not sure.” Junhong thinks for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’m also not sure how I’d call her with _your_ voice and tell her that we switched bodies and need a reversal potion.”

Jongup nods. “Yeah… That’s true…” He grabs a small contact lens case from behind the mirror and sets it on the counter. He turns to Junhong. “You ready?”

Junhong nods. He watches Jongup unscrew the lids on his contact case and dip his finger inside it. He holds the lens up to Junhong’s eye, but he hesitates.

“Would it be easier just to, uh, do it myself?” Jongup asks.

And Junhong _hates_ how much he likes having Jongup this close to him. Sure, it’s his own body, but it’s still _Jongup_ , and this is getting _really_ awkward _really_ fast. He watches as Jongup’s fingers hover just mere centimeters from his eye, and he doesn’t know what to expect, but he tries to keep his eyes open as long as possible.

“Sorry, do you mind if I…” Jongup puts one hand on Junhong’s shoulder. “It’s just you’re leaning back, and it’s a little hard when you keep moving.”

Junhong hates how his heartbeat jumps into his throat. He didn’t even realize that he was moving back. But now, his entire attention seems to concentrate on Jongup’s hand resting on his shoulder. Has Junhong’s own hand always been that warm?

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

Jongup’s hand––and the contact lens––is coming closer again, and Junhong holds his breath. He doesn’t know what to focus on. The lens? Jongup’s hand? Jongup’s _other_ hand on Junhong’s shoulder? This _tiny_ ass bathroom?

“Oh my _god_ , that is _weird_ ,” Junhong says as soon as the lens is in.

“It’ll adjust itself as you blink,” Jongup says as he reaches for the other lens.

And Junhong is blinking more than he thinks he probably has in his entire life. He knows he’s making a weird face between a scowl and a grimace, but he can’t even bring himself to care about that because he’s blinking, and he can _feel_ the lens moving and settling on his pupil, and it’s just overall _weird_.

“What the _hell_ ,” Junhong says. He tries to stop blinking, but one side is clear while the other is still blurry and maybe he’s getting a little bit of a headache now, and––

“Okay, okay, stop blinking so I can get the other one in,” Jongup says. His hand on Junhong’s shoulder is firm and reassuring. In a low voice that seems a little distracted, but still sincere nonetheless, he adds, “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” Junhong says. He tries to keep his eyes open, and he appreciates that Jongup is trying his best to make this as painless as possible for him. Actually, probably for the both of them, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

As soon as the lens is in, Junhong is blinking again. It feels just as weird the second time. He doesn’t even realize Jongup still has his hand on Junhong’s shoulder because he’s still trying to get used to the feeling of the contacts, and he’s beginning to think he never will.

“Are you okay? How is it?” Jongup asks, and his voice is just _so_ soft and concerned that Junhong wants this to work.

“Yeah, just… Gimme a minute,” Junhong replies. He blinks a couple more times, and after what feels like forever, he finally gets over the shock, and Jongup comes into focus. But Junhong is still staring at himself and it’s not getting any less weird. “Okay… I think I’m good now.”

Jongup smiles, and Junhong internally mourns the lost opportunity to see it on Jongup’s own face. “Great. You did really good.”

Junhong rolls his eyes. “Sure, okay. But… Um, thanks. For putting up with that.”

“My fault I can’t find my glasses,” Jongup says. He closes the lens case and puts it back on the shelf behind the mirror. “Anyway…”

Junhong tilts his head.

“I…really have to piss,” and Junhong can’t get over how _cute_ the quiet embarrassment in Jongup’s voice is.

Junhong blinks. “What does that have to–– Oh.”

Jongup nods slowly. “Are you okay with that?”

And who is Junhong to deny Jongup one of the most basic human needs? His face still bursts with warmth at the thought of Jongup seeing his dick, his actual real life _penis_. “Y-yeah. It’s not–– It’s no problem. Okay.”

“Okay. Same goes for you,” Jongup says. He nods. “I promise I won’t look at it too long.”

“You guys switched bodies and you’re worried about seeing each other’s dicks?!” Youngjae exclaims from outside the bathroom. “You’re both dudes! What does it matter?!”

“Oh my god, they’ve been listening to us.” Jongup hangs his head with a sigh.

“You’d be surprised by how thin those walls are,” Youngjae says.

“I’ll… I’ll go wait outside,” Junhong says. He doesn’t want to watch Jongup as himself use the toilet. He doesn’t know which would be more embarrassing at that point.

Junhong emerges from the bathroom to find Daehyun and Youngjae standing by the door. Yongguk and Himchan sit at the island, sipping coffee and eating toast. Junhong doesn’t know which is worse: the fact that Daehyun and Youngjae were actively listening, or the fact the Yongguk and Himchan didn’t bother to stop them.

Junhong can hear Jongup begin to piss from the other side of the bathroom door.

“How are the contacts?” Youngjae asks, and the grin on his face is just short of completely _shit-eating_.

“Not too bad,” Junhong replies. “I just have to get used to it.”

“Hey, Jong–– Junhong. I just wanna say I’m sorry,” Daehyun suddenly says, taking a step forward, and Junhong realizes that he’s been uncharacteristically quiet this morning. “I’m gonna try to get you guys back to normal by tonight.”

Junhong smiles at the sincere apology. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Jongup says as he flushes the toilet. Junhong notices the way Daehyun flinches and almost begins to curl in on himself as Jongup turns on the faucet to wash his hands. “But I accept your apology, hyung.”

Youngjae rubs Daehyun’s back and presses a kiss to his temple. He whispers something into Daehyun’s ear that sounds vaguely like “It’s okay, babe, good job”, but Junhong doesn’t want to assume. Youngjae begins walking to the door, stretching his limbs.

“I’m gonna go down to the shop to work on the mural.”

Himchan hums into his coffee.

“We’ll meet you down there,” Yongguk says.

“Good luck, guys!” Youngjae says before he closes the door behind him.

//

Junhong uses the bathroom after Jongup.

Junhong is impressed.

//

“I need you in Jupiter Apothecary,” Jongup says around noon.

Junhong blinks up from his sketchbook to see Jongup standing behind him with a slight pout on his lips. “Hello to you, too.”

“Wassup, Junhong,” Youngjae says, waving a brush at Jongup.

“I need my fingerprints back,” Jongup says, ignoring Youngjae. “If you’ll do me a favor.”

Youngjae turns to look at Jongup, his eyebrows raised high in surprise. “That’s definitely _not_ creepy.”

Jongup sighs, sitting beside Junhong at the counter. “I enchanted my pots to only be handled by me, and I’m, you know, currently…not. The enchantment doesn’t recognize my physiology.”

Junhong blinks again, slowly closing his sketchbook, not taking his eyes off Jongup. “And why would you enchant your pots like that?”

“To keep Daehyun hyung from using them,” Jongup replies, his voice dropping lower with each word. He looks down at his feet, almost in shame. “He doesn’t wash them when he’s done, especially when I need to use them afterwards.”

Youngjae snorts, bending forward as laughter takes over his body. “Oh my god, that’s the stupidest reason. I’m so sorry you had to enchant your pots because of _that_.”

Jongup sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looks back at Junhong. “So, can you come with me back to the shop? I really need to figure out some reversal potions.”

Junhong looks at Youngjae. Yongguk and Himchan are figuring out budget costs in the back, and Junhong isn’t even sure if Youngjae what else Youngjae is going to be doing today besides the mural.

“Just go help him,” Youngjae says with a shrug. “It’s not like the shop’s open anyway.”

“Okay. See you later, hyung,” Junhong says as he follows Jongup back to the Jupiter Apothecary.

The problem with apothecary witchcraft, Junhong realized early on in his life, is that too many witches talk about it condescendingly. _It’s not real_ , they taunt on their broomsticks with spells on the tips of their tongues. _Anybody can mix a couple herbs in a boiling pot to create sludge_. And they aren’t completely wrong, but they aren’t completely right either. Anybody can combine a pot of boiling water with a tablespoon of sugar, but not everybody can synthesize lysergic acid diethylamide on their own. Similarly, anybody can dump a handful of herbs into a pot of tea and drink the disgusting result, but not everybody can recognize the effects and consequences of combining certain ingredients with each other.

Not everybody has the power to draw out a plant’s full magical potential.

As much as Junhong doesn’t like practicing apothecary witchcraft, he can’t deny that he grew up in it. The traditions and rituals are engraved in his mind whether he likes it or not. He can’t deny the affinity he has for plants. He walks into the Jupiter Apothecary and it smells like home.

Daehyun looks up from the massive book he’s poring through on the counter and waves at Junhong and Jongup as they walk through the front door. “Hey. You two gonna work on the reversal?”

“Yeah. We’ll be in the back,” Jongup replies.

Daehyun nods before looking back down into the book. “Okay. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongup says, beckoning Junhong into a room behind a sunny yellow curtain at the back of the shop.

The back room is about the same size as the office in the Illustrated Man, maybe a little bigger. On the far wall is a tall shelf full of books and jars and bottles, both empty and full. Small pots of plants sit on the windowsill, the curtains pulled back to flood the entire room with light. A square table stands in the middle of the room, packed with bunches of dried plants. A small hot plate sits atop the table amidst the plants and papers with a clean pot.

“Welcome to our back room. Don’t bother trying to clean this shit up. It’s our way of organizing,” Jongup says. He begins to step over a stack of papers on the floor, but seems to overstep, and instead of walking normally, hops a couple steps forward to regain his balance, before finally landing again on his two feet. “How do you walk with these giraffe legs?”

“That’s like me asking you how you wear contacts everyday,” Junhong replies. He sits in one of the chairs by the table.

Jongup blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Okay, you got me there.” He turns the knob on the hot plate, and grins as he pours a jar full of water into the pot. “Ready to see some magic happen?”

“But I’ve seen your dick already,” Junhong says without a _moment_ of hesitation, and he fears for his dignity.

Jongup’s eyes widen, and Junhong knows his dignity isn’t salvageable. Maybe it never was as soon as Jongup pissed this morning. “What?”

“What?” Junhong replies, blinking.

There’s a tense silence in the room that Junhong is pretty sure he can cut with a knife. The water in the pot begins bubbling slowly. He really has to keep a watch on what he says otherwise he might say something even worse. Junhong just wants to make a good dick joke with his really attractive roommate, but the problem is that he has a crush on his really attractive roommate. Jongup suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter that wracks his entire body, bending at the waist, and Junhong briefly wonders if he’s always looks like that when he’s laughing.

“Guess that makes us even,” Jongup says, standing upright again and facing Junhong with a grin. He turns to the booksheld, running his hand along the spines of books and journals as he scans each one for whatever he’s looking for. His hand stops at a worn leather journal wedged in between two thick anthologies, carefully pulling off the shelf. “Let’s see… Body-switching via potion isn’t a very common occurrence, so there’s not a ton of research put into it.”

And Junhong isn’t sure if he likes the way Jongup can switch so easily between talking about their actual penises to their current problem at hand. He just needs a little more time to get used to this, is all. There’s no guarantee that Jongup is even interested in Junhong the same way. It’s a difficult path to navigate.

Junhong doesn’t really want to navigate that path again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a wonder how much one can write while waiting for their flight wow


	7. Chapter 7

When Junhong was in high school he met a nice boy, a year older than him with a soft voice and kind words that pulled Junhong in like a sailor attracted to the siren’s call in the middle of an ocean of pubescent awkwardness. And maybe Junhong realizes that what he’s feeling vaguely resembles a crush. Then, Junhong’s siren, his brilliant and beautiful siren, says something that sinks Junhong’s heart down into the deepest sea trench.

_“Witches are becoming a lot more prevalent in our society, and what if their magic does something that threatens the general population? I just think they should have a stricter limit on their magic, you get what I’m saying?”_

But Junhong _didn’t_ get it. How could someone so beautiful and _so_ kind say something laced with such ignorance? He’s only ever seen magic done with good intentions. How could someone have such a negative view of witches when they’d never even seen proper magic?

Junhong eventually fishes his heart out of that trench, but he’s more cautious after that.

Jongup leans back in his seat in front of Junhong, sighing as the potion in their pot bubbles something disgustingly green and sinister. He flips through his notebook a couple more times, muttering to himself and scratching his head as he figures out measurements and another set of ingredients. He flips to a page full of ingredients and crosses out their latest list (bay leaf, lemon balm, and lavender).

Junhong doesn’t know how his heart––the one he’d been _very_ closely guarding––managed to work itself up again, so restless and fluttery in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings.

“We might as well dump that,” Jongup says, sinking lower into the chair. He tosses his pencil onto the table, running his hands through his hair.

Junhong wonders what it’d feel like to have Jongup run his hands through his hair. He watches the contents of their last experiment swirl down the drain, and forces himself to imagine his thoughts slowly spiraling down that same drain.

“We haven’t tried myrrh yet, have we?” Junhong asks as he rinses the pot. He dries the edges and places it back on the hot plate.

Jongup opens his eyes and blinks at Junhong, looking for an explanation. “Why myrrh?”

Junhong wracks his mind for recipes and ingredients for a moment. As much as he dislikes practicing apothecary witchcraft, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the hours he spent in his mother’s workshop, watching her create potions, or the times he’d spend following her out into the nearby forest to collect plants with her. He can’t just ignore such an integral part of his childhood.

“It’s good for spiritual healing, and it boosts the effects of potions. We can use it with lemon balm to enhance its mental restoration properties. Hopefully it won’t turn into a disgusting glob this time.”

Junhong looks at Jongup to see him staring with wide eyes.

“What?” Junhong asks, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. Did he say something weird? Did he get the herbal effects mixed up? Is myrrh even relevant?

“Let’s try it,” Jongup says, and Junhong realizes that stare wasn’t incredulous, but full of awe instead.

Jongup bounces up from the chair to scan the shelves. He mutters “Myrrh, myrrh… Where’s the myrrh? Do we even have myrrh?” to himself as he zigzags each row of shelving. He lets out a quiet “There it is” and reaches up to grab it. He hands it to Junhong with a grin. “You know, I think I like this height. It’s nice being able to reach high places without a struggle.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” Junhong opens the jar and takes a whiff. He’s hit with a slightly earthy scent, a little bit of pine but also almost sweet. That’s definitely myrrh. “I was actually the shortest beginning high school, but then I just, uh… Shot up all of a sudden. Puberty hit me a little late, I guess.”

Jongup sighs, writing down their next set of ingredients. “I’m still waiting on that growth spurt.”

But Junhong thinks he likes Jongup at his current height. It’s…cute, in a way. And Junhong like to think of Jongup laying his head against his chest when they hug. He likes to imagine them hugging a lot.

“Well, I think your height is good, too,” Junhong says, maybe a little unhelpfully.

But Jongup just smiles and says, “Thanks.”

Junhong nearly drops the entire jar of myrrh into the pot.

//

Daehyun peeks behind the curtain. “Ugh, what the _fuck?!_ It stinks in here! Open the window or you’re going to stink up the whole shop!”

Junghong looks up from the pot, his hand still stirring the sludge. He blinks and Daehyun comes into focus. “What?”

Jongup groans. He’s slumped in the chair, his notebook laid open over his eyes. “Hyung, we can’t figure out a reversal potion. Everything is turning into sludge,”He takes his notebook and shows their page of failed experiments to Daehyun without opening his eyes. “Seventy-one. We’ve gone through _seventy-one_ potions, and they’ve all turned to _sludge_.”

Daehyun shakes his head with a sigh. “You could have asked me for help. You guys need a break. Go outside.” He looks at his phone. “It’s almost _three_. When was the last time you guys ate? Go get some fucking food.”

Junhong doesn’t know why nothing’s working. His stomach growls and he looks at Jongup. “He’s right. We should take a break.”

Jongup finally opens his eyes and sits up. “I know a good noodle place.”

“Let’s go,” Junhong says with a nod.

They begin to make their way out, but Daehyun stops them. “At least clean this up! And open up the window!” He sighs and heads back out to the front. “Jesus, these kids.”

Junhong stretches his arms above his body and heaves a sigh. He looks out at the jars and dried plants laid out on the table by the hot plate. They really did make a mess trying to find a reversal. He dumps out the potion into the sink and washes it out. How are they going to switch back if they can’t even find a reversal?

“Oh, here, let me help you with that,” Junhong says. He grabs onto a couple jars and turns to Jongup. “Where do these go?”

“Second to highest shelf,” Jongup replies.

Junhong stands at the bookshelf, and reaches up to place the jars on the shelf. But he doesn’t reach. Not even on his toes. “Oh.”

Jongup laughs. “Gotta get used to being short again, huh?”

“ _Wow_. Don’t mock me like this right now. I’m vulnerable,”Junhong whines, clutching his heart. “You know I get my strength from my height.”

Jongup laughs again and takes the jars from Junhong. “I’ll handle the shelves. Can you hand me the jars?”

“Sure,” Junhong says, heading to the table.

How long will they have to wait until they switch back?

//

Jongup falls onto his futon with a groan. Junhong looks up from his phone and smiles at him.

“I’m guessing today didn’t go well?” Youngjae asks. He mashes buttons on the controller as he plays through a quick-time event. He misses a button and yelps as his character is thrown across the screen by an enemy. “Dammit! Goddamn square!”

“It didn’t,” Jongup replies. He runs his hands through his hair and sits up. “I’m playing a game. Wanna join, hyung?”

“Man, fuck you, I just started this. Play with Junhong,” Youngjae says. The quick-time event ends, and his shoulders fall. “God, that lasted _forever_.”

Jongup rolls his eyes and turns to Junhong. “Have you played Overwatch before?”

Junhong shakes his head and locks his phone. “No. It’s a little expensive, and I don’t think my laptop would be able to handle it anyway.”

“Your laptop is shit if it can’t even handle a game,” Youngjae says. There’s a moment of silence before he adds, “No offense.”

“It’s okay,” Junhong replies.

Jongup digs through his things and pulls his laptop out from under a bundle of clothes with its charger. “Wanna play?”

Junhong raises an eyebrow. As much as he appreciates being included… “With what? I don’t even have the game.”

Youngjae waves a hand. “You can use my account. I trust you enough not to completely trash my laptop.”

“I’m…honored?” Junhong ends the sentence as a question because he’s not sure whether that was a compliment or a testament to how low Youngjae’s standards are for friends.

They set up on a low coffee table Junhong hadn’t noticed before––probably because it was covered mostly by backpacks, clothes, and blankets. They dump most of the things on an empty space on the floor, and they log on. Jongup sits cross-legged beside him, setting up a match and guiding Junhong through the process. Within seconds, Junhong is staring at the character selection screen, trying to pick which one he wants to use. He may not own the game, but he’s always admired the art.

“How about her?” Junhong asks, hovering his mouse over a smirking girl with long brown hair and pink triangles on her cheeks. The name under her picture reads D.va. He clicks her icon and an animation of her character pops up with a giant pink mech suit standing behind her.

“D.va?” Jongup leans in close to peek at Junhong’s screen. “I mean, sure, but you might have a little difficulty playing her. She’s an off-tank now with the new update, so it’s good to just poke enemies with her missiles. And if you aren’t within reach of a healer constantly, you’re gonna de-mech a _lot_. Not to mention––“

And Junhong drowns out Jongup, but he doesn’t mean to. It’s just…he’s using a lot of terms that Junhong understands individually, but in this context? He’s lost. Instead, he glances at Jongup, and somehow feels _robbed_ because instead of seeing Jongup sitting beside him, leaning in closer to his side, he sees _himself_ , and somehow this just doesn’t feel _fair_.

‘If he’s looking for easy, make him play Soldier. They put him in the tutorial for a reason,” Youngjae quips.

“Well, you have ten seconds left to choose, so… You probably should soon,” Jongup says, nodding to the timer.

Junhong has never felt more panicked in his life. “Uh… Okay. I guess I’ll just go with him, then.” He clicks Soldier 76, frowning a little at the old man staring at him through his weird glowing eyepiece.

The match ends quickly. Junhong wasn’t even keeping track of the time. Somewhere in the middle, Youngjae paused his own game to watch, and Daehyun came up the steps to watch too. Jongup was mostly quiet throughout, but he did give Junhong tips and instructions. He was drowned out a couple times by Youngjae shouting “Left mouse! Drop your shield!” or “Your Q! Hit your Q! Now right mouse!”, followed by a loud cheer when Junhong got his first kill in the last thirty seconds.

It’s a hectic fifteen minutes.

Jongup turns to Junhong with a smile––Junhong still mourns the fact that he’s just seeing himself––and says, “Not bad for your first game.”

“I don’t know what I was doing half the time, and the rest of it, I was just doing what I could make out of Youngjae-hyung’s shouts,” Junhong says with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t make me hit you, brat,” Youngjae says, threatening Junhong with a hand, but Junhong just grins.

“I heard you talking about D.va last time. Why don’t you play her next?” Daehyun says from behind them.

“Only if you wanna play some more,” Jongup adds.

Junhong shrugs. He’s actually having fun despite Youngjae yelling in his ear about controls he doesn’t have a full grasp on. “I mean… I can play again.”

Jongup grins, nudging Junhong’s side. Junhong gasps as he feels something yank him backwards. He blinks and suddenly he’s airborne. He sees everyone, himself and Jongup included, still in the apartment below him, completely still, deathly quiet. There’s a constant ringing in his ears, almost turning into a dull buzz if he keeps listening to it. He suddenly realizes that he doesn’t feel…real. He looks down at his hands. He can see through them.

Is he… Is this his soul?

“Jun––“

Junhong turns his head and sees Jongup beside him, his eyes wide, his body––no, his _soul_ ––transparent, like stained glass. He doesn’t get another word in because something invisible and otherworldly pulls him back down. He opens his eyes with a gasp.

“Oh my god,” Junhong whispers, and he wants to cry because that’s _his_ voice. He looks at Jongup, who has the same revelation.

“You guys okay?” Daehyun asks, coming in between them.

“Hyung, we’re back,” Jongup replies. “I don’t know how, but… We’re back.”

Daehyun’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between Jongup and Junhong. “You’re back.”

Junhong smiles and nods his head.

“Damn. Who’d have thought our solution was Overwatch the whole time,” Youngjae mutters, but he’s smiling in relief. He goes back to his own game, and Daehyun heads down to tell Yongguk and Himchan.

“So…,” Junhong says, looking at Jongup, and they share a knowing look. Or at least, Junhong thinks it’s a knowing look. What happened in the moments they were outside of their bodies? He lowers his voice, leaning a little closer to Jongup, and Jongup does the same. “You… You saw that too, right?”

Jongup nods.

The moment is broken as Yongguk and Himchan come up the stairs, asking questions both concerned and curious. Daehyun doesn’t come back up. Instead, his voice floats up form downstairs.

“Youngjae, can you come down here real quick?”

Youngjae pauses his game and pushes across the small space through Yongguk and Himchan. He meets Daehyun by the window to the roof. There’s something…off about him. Youngjae can’t pinoint it, so he waits for Daehyun to explain.

“What is it?” Youngjae asks, tilting his head.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Daehyun takes Youngjae’s hand and they climb out the window and up the fire escape to the roof. Daehyun stares at Youngjae for a moment, not knowing where to start.

“Well?” Youngjae asks, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Why’d you bring me out here? As much as I like the idea of making out up here, it’s a little cold out here.”

“Sorry, I’ll make this quick,” Daehyun whispers. He glances over the ledge, making sure the window is shut. “I know the real reason they switched back.”

Youngjae tilts his head, blinking as his eyebrows slowly furrow together. “What? You mean there’s an actual reason?”

Daehyun runs his hands through his hair because, of course he’s _relieved_ that they’re back to normal, but he’s still so _confused_ and now he’s _stressed_. “I’m not even sure, but… Ugh, Jae, I don’t know.”

“Just say it,” Youngjae insists. He hates it when Daehyun dances around the subject.

Daehyun takes a deep breath. “So, I was looking through some old books, and stellaria used with cherry bark and geranium in a _potion_ created an outcome not a lot of people have a need for. But I didn’t know how to tell them because… The reason…”

“Dae, what the _hell_ are you saying?” Youngjae asks. The confusion on his face is slowly turning into concern.

Daehyun places both of his hands on his cheeks, looking into Youngjae’s eyes as he tries to find the simplest way to explain the situation. “The potion… It switched their bodies because it recognized their mutual feelings of attraction for each other, but didn’t switch them back until they realized it themselves. It’s…confusing.”

Youngjae stares at Daehyun, his eyes slowly growing wider until he lets out a sudden “Oh my god!”

Daehyun jumps. “W-what?”

Youngjae begins pacing the rooftop, his cackles sounding a little maniacal the longer Daehyun listens. “Dae, you absolute _genius_. Do you know what this _means?”_

Daehyun doesn’t completely follow, but he won’t refuse a compliment. “No?”

“They _like_ each other,” Youngjae says, grabbing Daehyun’s shoulders, and Daehyun shivers at the mischievous, almost manic gleam in Youngjae’s eyes. “But they’re too shy and awkward to actually do anything about it. You know the responsibility to bring them together rests on _us_ now, right?”

Daehyun does realize that. “Oh. _Oh_. That’s what you mean.”

“ _Yes_ , remember how dumb we were before we started dating? Those two are even worse,” Youngjae replies, nodding his head in agreement. “We have to be careful. One wrong move and they’ll be too awkward around each other to even _speak_.”

Daehyun narrows his eyes. “What makes you think that?”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “Jongup won’t speak up if he doesn’t have to and Junhong is still too shy to do fucking anything. Daehyun, have you _seen_ them? They’re––“

The sound of the window sliding open makes Youngjae clamp his mouth shut, his teeth clicking at the impact. Daehyun and Youngjae turn to look in the direction of the window and find Himchan at the fire escape.

“Hey…What are you two doing out here? Come back inside. It’s cold out,” Himchan says before disappearing back into the apartment.

Youngjae turns back to Daehyun with a grin. “Come on. We got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did jongup just realize his own crush while watching junhong eat shit at overwatch? absolutely. 
> 
> disclaimer: i’ve only played overwatch one (1) time and it was with a friend who was not a very good teacher


	8. Chapter 8

Youngjae peels the tape off the mural, grinning as he does so. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“What do you mean?” Junhong asks. He goes a little breathless as he witnesses the final stage of the mural. He knows it’s all just paint, but he swears the lights in the buildings are practically sparkling as bright as the stars above them.

“Immersing myself into this big project without any guilt or other shit to focus on. It was…therapeutic almost,” Youngjae says, smiling fondly at the mural.

“It looks really good,” Junhong says, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

Youngjae grins, wide and accomplished as he balls up the tape in his hands. “Thanks.”

“Alright, we’re reopening the shop today. We’ve got clients who’ve been waiting very patiently for us for a week,” Yongguk says as he unlocks the door and flips on the neon sign. He pauses, frowning. “I don’t remember there being rain in the forecast.”

“Weird,” Youngjae says, circling around the counter to look out the front window beside Yongguk. “It wasn’t even cloudy this morning.”

Yongguk hums. He goes back behind the counter and smiles at Junhong. “I have an appointment later at 10. You wanna sit in and watch?”

Junhong nods, his eyes sparkling. He won’t deny he’s been feeling a little restless for the whole week. He liked watching Youngjae work on the mural, but he can only watch someone sit and paint the same green details for so long. He’s easily filled at least five more pages in his sketchbook with doodles of everyone. He’ll admit the body-switch with Jongup was a little exciting, though.

“Great. Let’s get you set up.” Yongguk leads Junhong back into his tattoo room, grabbing another stool from outside on the way there. “Sorry, it’s a little cramped in here already so I won’t be able to give you a proper desk.”

Junhong just shrugs. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

Yongguk grabs his tattoo gun and holds it out in front of Junhong. “Let’s review the parts before my appointment, then.”

Yongguk’s 10:00 AM appointment is a meek woman who doesn’t look into Yongguk’s eyes for more than five seconds, but Junhong thinks it’s more like she _can’t_. She barely reaches up to his shoulders with the way she almost slouches forward like she’s trying to hide herself. She walks into the Illustrated Man with her hands clutching the strap of her purse slung across her front. She’s wearing a tank top that shows off the uncolored outline of a bundle of flowers on her right shoulder, curling just slightly over her shoulder blade on her back.

“Hey, Misook-ah. How are you today?” Yongguk asks as he leads her behind the counter.

“I’m pretty good. How about you?” she replies, and her voice is about as soft as Junhong imagines it. “I’m sorry about what happened with the shop, by the way.”

Yongguk smiles at her. “I’m also good. And thank you. We worked past it, though. _And_ Youngjae got to paint the wall.”

Misook stops for a moment to admire the mural, her eyes wide. “It looks beautiful.”

“Thanks!” Youngjae exclaims from his own room. “Took the whole week.”

Misook laughs, covering her mouth, and Junhong wonders if he weren’t exclusively gay, maybe he would have wanted to date her too. She’s still cute, though.

“Oh, I also got a new apprentice. He’ll be watching today, if you don’t mind,” Yongguk says, patting Junhong’s shoulder. “HIs name is Junhong.”

Misook smiles and holds a hand out, and Junhong can’t help but notice how soft her hand is when he takes it. “Sure, I don’t mind. I’m Misook.”

“Nice to meet you,” Junhong says. If he looks a little closer at her tattoo, he can see a sigil worked into the design, spiraling and sitting among the petals.

They reach Yongguk’s room and get set up. Junhong sits on the stool with his sketchbook in his lap, but he can’t help feeling like a creeping pervert stuck in the corner like this. Misook sits in the chair, her back to Yongguk, with the strap of her tank top pulled down so Yongguk can work easily on it. Yongguk sits in his stool, fiddling with his tattoo gun before facing Misook.

“Ready?” Yongguk asks.

Misook nods, taking a deep breath to relax. Yongguk presses the gun to her shoulder, and she lets her eyes slip closed. Junhong watches Yongguk press the needles against Misook’s shoulder, his left hand resting on her other shoulder to steady her. He drowns in the constant buzz of the gun. She takes deep breaths, sometimes humming to an unnamed tune. Yongguk’s eyebrows furrow as he concentrates on filling in each petal with color. Once again, Junhong loses track of time. He watches Yongguk paint this woman’s skin, occasionally wiping away the excess ink or blood.

Yongguk turns off the gun well into the afternoon. Junhong blinks his eyes open. He doesn’t remember dozing off, but he stretches in the stool, sighing as he work the cricks out of his neck. Yongguk begins covering Misook’s shoulder with a salve and plastic wrap. He takes off his gloves and throws them in the trash.

“How’re you feeling, Misook-ah?” Yongguk asks.

Misook turns to Yongguk with a smile, but Junhong can see the strain behind it. “Better than the first time.”

Yongguk smiles back. “You’re welcome to stay here a little longer before you take off. I don’t have any more appointments today.”

Misook shakes her head and stands up. “I have to meet up with a friend soon. I should get going.”

“Alright, let me walk you out,” Yongguk says. As Misook walks out into the hall, he turns to Junhong and laughs. “Did you have a good nap?”

Junhong nods and follows Yongguk out.

“Is it still raining?”

Junhong follows Misook’s gaze and looks out the window where the rain is still pouring. If anything, the rain has gotten worse in the couple hours they’ve been in the room. Himchan finishes up with a customer and waves her off with a smile. He sits back on his stool behind the counter with a sigh.

“Yeah, nonstop. Hasn’t let up for even a minute. I wonder what the meteorologists are thinking right now,” Himchan says.

“They’re probably freaking out. They said it’d be sunny all week,” Yongguk replies. He turns to Misook. “I’ll see you next week to color the rest in?”

Misook smiles. “Yeah. Can I bring a friend next time? He wanted to see what it looks like, but I wasn’t sure if you’d allow that.”

“Yeah, one or two friends is fine, but any more than that can get a little cramped,” Yongguk replies, a little sheepish like he’s almost ashamed of how small the room is.

“Okay, thank you.” Misook bows to them before walking out with a wave. “Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Yongguk says before the door closes behind her.

Junhong sits in his stool, slumping a little and yawns.

“Did you take a nap back there?” Himchan asks with a snicker.

Junhong shrugs. “Maybe. Is it my fault the tattoo gun is that relaxing?”

//

“There have been reports of a dragon sighting in West Acres. While the dragon is not causing any property damage, citizens are concerned about any future possibilities of there being an attack. Authorities, both the Bureau of Wizardry and police, are keeping a close eye on it, but do not want to agitate or harm the dragon.”

Junhong watches the TV on the couch beside Youngjae and Himchan, an arm slung across the back as the anchorwoman drones on about the so-called dragon sighting. So far, the only information they have is that the dragon appears only at night and doesn’t do anything other than fly a little too close to the roofs of the skyscrapers. The screen changes from the anchorwoman to a grainy video of a glowing turquoise squiggle in the sky. _Definitely_ a dragon.

“Fucking monos, I swear to god,” Daehyun mutters as he emerges from behind his screen, still toweling his hair dry from his shower. “The dragon isn’t even doing anything to them. It’s just flying outside of Midtown Point.”

“They have a valid reason to be scared. It’s not everyday they see a dragon up there,” Yongguk says starts washing the dishes. “It’s not everyday _anyone_ sees a dragon in the city.”

Daehyun huffs and sits in the armchair beside the couch. “It’s just a dragon. Ours don’t even breathe fire like the European ones.”

“So that’s why it’s been raining all day,” Himchan says. “The river’s gonna overflow at this point.”

“What are they gonna do about it, though?” Junhong asks. The video plays over as the anchorwoman continues on, and he can’t help but be a little mesmerized by sheer beauty of the glowing scales.

Himchan shrugs. “I don’t think they know, honestly. The Bureau certainly doesn’t get a lot of dragon cases. It’s just like she said. They don’t want to agitate it and make it violent.”

“This city is old as shit. You can’t tell me there hasn’t been a loose dragon in the city before,” Youngjae scoffs. “At least the Bureau is keeping the police from doing anything dumb.”

“Are you guys even looking outside right now?” Jongup asks as he comes down from the loft.

“Why?” Daehyun asks, twisting around to look at Jongup.

Junhong stands up and presses his face as close as he can to the window. Through the water drops running down the pane, he thinks he can see that glowing turquoise speck in the sky above the light of the highest skyscraper.

“Oh my god. It’s really there,” Junhong says. He turns to everyone else, and he doesn’t even bother to hide his excitement. “It’s really out there right now!”

Jongup comes up beside Junhong with a grin on his face, maybe not quite as wide, but just as excited. “Wanna go outside to see it clearer?”

Junhong gasps and nods, already making his way to the window up to the roof. “Do you guys want to come out too?”

“Nah, I’m good. I just took a shower. I don’t wanna take another one,” Daehyun says.

“I’m fine watching it from the window,” Youngjae replies.

Both Yongguk and Himchan reply with a muted “No thanks.”

Junhong glances at Jongup, who only shrugs, and they grab umbrellas before clambering out onto the fire escape. Jongup slides the window closed so the floor inside doesn’t get flooded with rainwater. Outside, Junhong can see the dragon a lot clearer. The dragon flows and twists through the air like a ribbon blanketed in swirling darkness. If it looks this big from here, he can only imagine how big it is up close. Its brightness, almost neon against the night sky, outshines every city light below it, and Junhong is completely enraptured.He takes his phone out to snap a picture to send to his mom later.

It’s not until a couple minutes pass that Junhong remembers Jongup standing next to him. He looks at Jongup, and Jongup, almost panicked, turns to the side, clearing his throat.

“It looks cool, doesn’t it?” Junhong asks, his voice suddenly too loud.“I wonder why it suddenly appeared like this, though.”

Jongup hums, the sound almost drowned out by the sound of the rain pelting their umbrellas. “I don’t know… It _does_ seem a little random, yeah.”

Junhong lets the conversation trail off into silence, drowned out by the rain hitting everything, as he stares at the dragon.

//

The dragon spends every night up in the sky for the following week, but it doesn't attack the city... Continues flying above the skyscrapers like a benevolent guardian. Rain falls for the whole week with no predictable end in sight. It was nice at first, but when the only sunlight peeking through the clouds is only a sliver, Junhong is beginning to think the whole city might flood. The river has risen up so far up the walls, it’s only a matter of time before it completely overflows into the streets.

Everyone else is working with separate customers, so Junhong sits at the counter, staring at the rain pelting the window. He’ll admit he’s feeling a little irritated with the sound of it. He’s feeling a little sick of rain in general. The door opens, the bell a pleasant jingle among the water, and a woman walks in. Maybe mid to late thirties. Very distressed, if the furrow in her eyebrows says anything. She shakes her umbrella of the excess water by the door, and finally walks up to the counter.

“Are you Bang Yongguk?” she asks.

“N-no, sorry,” Junhong stutters out, completely intimidated by this woman. He holds a hand out to signal to the rooms down the hall. “He’s currently busy at the moment, but if you’d like to make an appointment––“

“No, I _need_ to talk to Bang Yongguk,” she insists. “This is important.”

Junhong smiles. He curses the silencing wards in the tattoo rooms because he’d love for _someone_ to just very conveniently step in and help him with this. “I’m sorry, but he’s busy with a customer right now. I can leave a message, if you’d like.”

The woman walks behind the counter and down the hall. “He’s in one of these rooms, right? Bang Yongguk, I need to speak with you!”

Junhong scrambles after her, and it takes all his strength not to yank her and shove her back behind the counter because seriously, who _does_ this anymore? “Ma’am–– Miss–– Miss, please, you can’t just––“

The woman throws one of the doors open. Thankfully, Yongguk has quick reflexes and switches the tattoo gun off before he messes up.

“What the f––“ Yongguk blinks up at the woman staring down at him from the doorway. “Uh…”

Junhong looks above her head at Yongguk, already a hundred apologies spilling from his mouth. “I’m sorry, hyung, she just walked past, and I… I’m really––“

“Bang Yongguk?” the woman says.

Yongguk sighs. To his customer, he says, “Sorry, let me just... Gimme a minute.” He spins in his stool to face the woman. “Yes, that’s me. What can I help you that my apprentice _right_ there behind you couldn’t help you with?”

If the woman caught the snark in Yongguk’s voice, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “That dragon up in the sky is my wife, and your tattoos are keeping her from transforming back.”

Yongguk’s smile falls from his face as disbelief takes over. “I’m sorry, what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jongup was most definitely staring at junhong in the rain. thinking very gay thoughts
> 
> so a new arc awaits us let’s see what happens next. also i know i keep saying this, but there might not be another update for a bit. some personal stuff just suddenly popped up lmao just a warning that i won't be able to write for a little while thnx for understanding


	9. Chapter 9

Yongguk looks between the woman and his own client. He takes a deep breath, and Junhong can see him try to hold back a scathing comment. From behind the woman, Junhong mouths a quiet, _I’m so sorry, hyung_ , which earns him an understanding smile.

“Let’s talk outside, alright?” Yongguk says. He turns to the client still lying across the chair, his back exposed and only halfway inked. “I’m sorry, could you give me a couple minutes?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem, dude,” the client says, waving his hand and giving Yongguk a thumbs up.

Yongguk removes his gloves and dips outside the room into the hallway. He crosses his arms atop his chest, his lips pressed into a tight line. Junhong hasn’t seen Yongguk angry before, but he’s sure this is as close as he’s going to get.

“Junhong, you can go back to the front now.” Yongguk turns to the woman, already beginning to usher her towards the back office. “Let’s speak in the office. So, you said your wife…got a tattoo here?”

“Yes, she––“

The door slides shut, and Junhong isn’t sure if he should stay to eavesdrop. He sighs and returns to watching the counter where he hopes no one else will try to walk through uninvited.

//

Yongguk sits on the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions as he rests a bottle of beer on his knee. Everyone else is unwinding from the day as they bustle around the apartment, but Yongguk is unmoving, his chest barely even moving as he breathes. The rain pelts the windows, just like it has for the past week.

“Rough day?” Daehyun whispers to Junhong as they wash the dishes. “Yongguk-hyung doesn’t really drink unless something _real_ bad happened.”

Junhong glances back at Yongguk on the couch, where Himchan silently takes the bottle from Yongguk’s hand and places it on the coffee table. He sits beside Yongguk, legs tucked underneath him as he talks to Yongguk in a hushed whisper.

“Kinda, yeah,” Junhong replies, taking the bowls from the drying rack and wiping them down to be put away. “A woman came into the store earlier. Well… She barged in. Apparently her wife is the dragon in the sky… And she can’t control her shapeshifting because of the tattoo she got from Yongguk-hyung.”

Daehyun scoffs as he scrubs a pot down. “How does that make any sense?”

“Well… If a sigil isn’t compatible with the person, I can see how it might interfere with that person’s magic,” Junhong says. He frowns at his reflection in the metal bowl. “That’s super rare, though. I can’t think of anything that might cause someone’s shapeshifting to go _that_ bad.”

“What’d the sigil say?” Daehyun asks.

Junhong shrugs. “They were talking in the office, and I had to watch the front. She actually walked past me and into Yongguk-hyung’s room. I tried to stop her, but she was really…persistent.”

“Hmm. That’s intense,” Daehyun agrees with a solemn nod.

Jongup comes up beside Junhong, taking the plates and bowls and placing them on the shelves. “I thought I heard her yelling at Yongguk-hyung through the walls. She sounded like a––“ He stops himself, pausing for the briefest moment before continuing. “––a real challenge to talk to.”

Junhong nods, and very quietly, he says, “I wouldn’t mind if she doesn’t come back.”

Jongup snorts, but he pats Junhong’s back. “That’s just how it is sometimes.”

Junhong sighs, but he doesn’t say anything else after that. He’s heard of customer horror stories, but he just…can’t believe how some people refuse to act reasonably. Though, as he thinks more about it, her wife is still up in the sky, making rain, and he thinks he can understand her anger a little.

Yongguk stands up from the couch and walks to the dining table with Himchan behind him. “Family meeting, guys.”

And Junhong hesitates because as much as he knows that he’s a part of this little “family”, he’s barely been here for half a month and… Maybe he’s just not used to this sort of closeness with people other than his family. He hangs the dishcloth on the oven handle to dry, and watches as everyone slowly begins to congregate at the dining table.

Jongup silently takes Junhong by the elbow and leads him to the dining table.

Youngjae comes out of the bathroom, raising an eyebrow, no doubt seeing the bottle of beer in Yongguk’s hand. “Uh oh.”

As soon as everyone is settled around the table, he says, “We have to talk about the woman who came into the shop today. Her name is Lee Sowon, and her wife is up there because of the sigil tattoo she got from me earlier. I’ll be investigating what went wrong with the tattoo and why it’s messing with her shapeshifting.”

Youngjae raises his hand, and Yongguk nods. “What’d the tattoo look like?”

“Just the usual sigil and design…” Yongguk takes his phone out of his pocket, and scrolls through his photos in silence for a few moments. He suddenly places his phone in the middle of the table, and everyone leans forward to get a better look. “Here.”

Junhong sees a pale patch of skin with a bundle of flowers outlined on a shoulder, curling just slightly over the shoulder blade. He looks up at Yongguk, and Yongguk nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The only thing that Junhong can’t comprehend is someone like Misook marrying someone like Sowon.

“So, uh, what’s it mean?” Daehyun asks, squinting at the tattoo.

Yongguk hums, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to remember. “‘Pure of heart, protect thy love’? Something along those lines.”

“Hyung,” Jongup begins, slow and almost cautious.

Yongguk looks up at Jongup. “Yeah?”

“That’s cheesy as hell,” Jongup says, and now everybody is staring at him.

Youngjae nudges him, but he looks like he’s just barely suppressing a laugh. “Just because everyone thought it didn’t mean you had to say it.”

Jongup is about to reply, but Yongguk sighs, shaking his head. “Do you guys expect me to turn away a paying customer?”

“But _still_ , hyung,” Jongup says, finally giving into a fit of giggles with Youngjae.

Yongguk looks like he wants to be mad at them, but he ends up smiling for a moment. “Anyway, I can’t let this go on because I doubt that woman is happy about having to transform every night. I’m going to visit her this weekend and talk to her.”

“You’re not going alone,” Himchan says in a tone that doesn’t leave room for questions. When Yongguk opens his mouth to protest, Himchan just glares at him. ”If you’re about to go on some long-winded speech about how this is your responsibility, we already know it is, but I’m still _not_ letting you go alone. I don’t care if they’re two old women.”

Yongguk just smiles and pats Himchan’s shoulder. “Okay, but I can’t bring you with me. You have to watch over the shop.”

Himchan frowns, and Junhong can see the way his eyes flicker with fire and resistance.

“I can go,” Junhong says without much thought. Everyone turns to him, and he feels his cheeks flood with warmth. “I mean. I’m your apprentice, right? And I don’t exactly have customers waiting on me. So. You know. I don’t mind.”

Himchan nods. “There you have it. You’ll go with Yongguk tomorrow then.”

But Yongguk frowns. “Are you sure?”

Junhong nods, steeling his resolve. “Yes, hyung. I’m sure. Really.”

Himchan snorts. “The kid’s eighteen, Bbang. Let him go with you.”

Junhong doesn’t know if being called _kid_ helps his case, but Yongguk seems convinced. He’ll admit he doesn’t really like the idea of facing the woman––and potentially her wife’s––wrath, but he already volunteered himself, and he can’t back out now.

“Great. Meeting adjourned.”

That night, Junhong lays awake on his futon. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the slow breathing of five other men. He can hear Daehyun’s faint snoring downstairs. Youngjae doesn’t sleep up in the loft much anymore, favoring Daehyun’s bed over the cramped space. Jongup doesn’t really snore, but his even breathing is a comfort that Junhong secretly likes to listen to on nights like this. There’s an added sound of rain that probably won’t let up until dawn.

Tonight, Junhong can’t help but wonder why the sigil is interfering with her shapeshifting. He hasn’t actually seen a sigil mess with someone that badly before, but he’s read up on similar situations. Sigils work very literally, but the intentions were clear in her words.

 _Pure of heart, protect thy love_.

Junhong can’t get the phrase out of his mind.

Why exactly is she up there?

//

The next day, Junhong stands behind Yongguk outside the apartment, waiting or someone to answer the door. Embedded deep in downtown, the building is sleek, modern, and wealthy with tall glass windows and a security guard at the entrance. Coming from a small town along the coast, this is what Junhong thinks living in a big city is like.

The door swings open and Sowon stands before them.

“Good afternoon, Sowon-sshi,” Yongguk says, bowing his head slightly.

Junhong follows him.

“Sowonnie, who is that outside?”

Junhong blinks. He saw the picture yesterday, so he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He still is. He looks to Yongguk, who doesn’t even give him a glance.

“It’s just Bang Yongguk-sshi and…“ Sowon looks at Junhong, pausing as if waiting for him to say something.

“My apprentice, Junhong,” Yongguk says.

“His apprentice, Junhong,” Sowon steps aside to let them in. As they toe off their shoes at the entryway, she asks, “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Yongguk says as he places his shoes to the side and steps up.

Junhong places his shoes beside Yongguk’s, and when he looks up, he sees Sowon looking down at him. “N- No thank you.”

Sowon nods and leads them further into the apartment. The short walk to the end of the hall opens up into the kitchen and living room to the right, and a TV mounted to the wall on the left. A door in the corner of the living room has been left ajar, presumably leading into the bedroom. It’s a tidy apartment, not much of a mess, with plants of various sizes growing in pots along the balcony outside. Several small potted succulents sit on the end table by the couch.

And on the couch, looking at them, is Misook. Pale blue scales form on her skin in varying patches, the most prominent originating from the tattoo on her shoulder.

Junhong doesn’t have time to hide his surprise, and by the time he’s composing his face again, he knows Misook probably noticed because she’s smiling at them and standing up from the couch. She bends to lower the volume on the TV and heads to the dining table.

“It’s good to see you two again. Please, sit down,” she says, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. “I apologize for my appearance. I’ve had a…difficult week.”

Sowon takes the seat beside Misook and places a hand on her shoulder. Misook leans just the slightest bit into Sowon’s touch.

“I should be the one apologizing, Misook-ah,” Yongguk says, and he sounds truly sincere. “I’m just here to figure out why the tattoo is interfering with your magic. When did your…uh, shapeshifting start acting up?”

Misook bites her bottom lip, and she looks like she wants to say something. Sowon moves her hand to Misook’s back, probably to the space between her shoulder blades, careful of the still healing tattoo. “That night when you began coloring it in. It… It wasn’t the ink.”

That’s not what she wanted to say. It answered the question, but she still looks like she has something she’s dying to say.

“She was feeling a little sick after she got the outline,” Sowon says, turning an accusatory eye at Yongguk.

Junhong fights the shiver that threatens to crawl up his spine.

“Sowonnie. Stop, it’s not his fault.”

Yongguk shakes his head. “It’s my responsibility to check that my sigils are adapted to be completely compatible with your magic. I must have overlooked something.”

In the half month Junhong has known Yongguk, he’s learned how thorough Yongguk works to ensure every tattoo he designs seamlessly incorporates itself into the client, magical or not. There couldn’t have been something Yongguk overlooked. He feels bad that Yongguk is being forced to say these things, but this situation completely looks like his fault.

Sowon looks at Misook with confusion and anger. Her voice is even when she speaks, though. “Misook, your magic has been acting odd ever since you got that tattoo.”

Misook looks at Sowon with determination shining in her eyes. “It really _isn’t_.”

“If you don’t mind me mentioning,” Junhong begins, slouching a little as everyone’s eyes turn to him, but he presses on, “your sigil… Or, the phrase, more specifically. ‘Pure of heart, protect thy love’? It’s perfectly functional as a sigil, but sigils often work very literally, right? So…I was thinking if there was something… Something about the phrase itself that was incompatible with you.”

Sowon is frowning, already getting ready to lash out, and Yongguk leans forward, his elbows on the table in an attempt at getting Sowon’s attention turned towards him instead of Junhong.

“We came up with the phrase together. If there was something wrong with it, Misook would have said something,” Sowon grits out. “She wanted to make sure she could protect me, and I wanted to include something that indicative of her personality.”

Junhong appreciates how she makes an attempt to remain civil in front of Misook. “I–– My apologies, I was–– I was just wondering.”

“He’s right,” Misook says before Sowon completely blows up. Junhong looks at Misook directly across from him, and he sees the blue scales on her skin glow as her cheeks grow red. She rubs her upper arm, right where the scales fade into skin. “I… I didn’t think about it before, but he’s right.”

Sowon leans forward, trying to meet Misook’s eyes, but she only looks down and away from Sowon. “What… What are you talking about? Misook, what do you _mean?”_

Junhong’s eyes widen as he finally realizes what Misook has apparently been hiding from Sowon. He suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be here, witnessing a reveal that should _definitely_ be kept private and between Misook and Sowon. He glances at Yongguk, hoping his wide-eyed panic is enough to convey how much he _really_ wants to leave now.

“I sold my heart,” Misook whispers, bringing her arms around herself and curling forward. Her scales slowly creep over her skin, glowing a little brighter with each second that passes by.

Sowon tenses. The silence that falls over them is deafening and heavy. She doesn’t move, her hands now hovering centimeters from Misook’s skin like she’s afraid of touching her. The silence very quickly grows too heavy for Junhong to bear, his ears ringing. He glances at Yongguk, but he seems unaffected by the events unfolding before him. If he’s panicking just as much as Junhong currently is, he hides it well.

“ _Excuse_ me?!” Sowon eventually shouts.

Junhong jumps up in his seat. Sowon stands up and begins pacing the living room. Misook wraps her arms tighter around herself. Yongguk is as still as a stone.

“How could you do something so reckless?! You _sold_ your _heart?!”_ Sowon asks, her voice growing more frantic with every word.

Misook shoots up, her hands balled into fists at her side as she glares at Sowon. “You know I did it for _you!”_

Sowon freezes in the middle of the living room, her expression softening as realization seems to flood her.

Yongguk suddenly stands up, bringing Junhong up with him. “We’ll be taking our leave now. I’m sorryfor the intrusion. We can walk ourselves out.”

“That’d be for the best.” Sowon doesn’t look at Yongguk or Junhong as they scurry out of the apartment.

Junhong follows Yongguk out of the building, and he doesn’t breathe easy until they’re out the front doors. The security guard eyes them, but Junhong doesn’t care. He’s just glad to be out of that apartment. They stayed there a minute too long. He just can’t help thinking that he was the one who pushed Misook to admit she sold her _heart_.

Who would she even sell her heart to? _Why_ would she sell her heart?

“Come on, Junhong. We have some other errands to run,” Yongguk says, taking off down the sidewalk with wide strides.

Junhong quickly follows after Yongguk. He didn’t mention anything other than visiting Sowon and Misook today. “Where are we going?”

“I think I know who Misook sold her heart to,” Yongguk says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know haku?? and howl??? this fic is actually one big studio ghibli reference. just watch i’m gonna write in some magical flying bathhouse run by a talking cat in a later chapter


	10. Chapter 10

Yongguk stops outside a small shop, the front window cluttered with merchandise and goods. The weathered sign atop the store reads _Wishing Well_ with a sort of protection sigil at the end. Junhong glances into the window, past all the items, and sees two women, one with raven black hair and the other with shorter blonde hair, behind the counter. Another woman dusts and rearranges items on the shelves.

“Hyung, what is this place?” Junhong asks before Yongguk can open the door.

“A…pawn shop. Of sorts,” Yongguk replies, but not even he sounds too sure of himself. He pulls the door open before Junhong can ask anything more. “I’ll talk to them, don’t worry.”

Junhong tilts his head, wondering if Yongguk meant to imply _Don’t talk to them, I’ll do it instead_.

“Bang Yongguk-sshi, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” a sweet voice drawls.

Junhong slides his gaze away from the items and various jars cluttering the shelves and floor to the women at the counter. The raven-haired one stares at them curiously, but her gaze is heavy, like she somehow knows exactly why they’re here. Junhong feels immense magic flowing from here, specifically coming from her.

No, Junhong thinks as he glances all around the shop, the magic flows from all of them, culminating and lingering in the air around them like an invisible fog.

“Noona,” Yongguk bows his head as he approaches the counter, but he smiles when he meets her gaze again. “It has been a while.”

“Oppa, is this a new apprentice?” the other woman, her voice noticeably deeper than the first woman’s, asks. Her eyes sparkle with excited curiosity as she waves them over. She holds her hand out to Junhong as they stop at the counter. “What’s your name?”

Junhong eyes her hand for a moment before taking it. It’s lined with callouses, and her grip is strong. “Choi Junhong.”

“Nice to meet you, Junhong-sshi. I’m Amber.” She points a thumb to the woman beside her. “This is Victoria.” Then, she points to the woman still cleaning the shelves. “That’s Krystal. We have another employee, Luna, but she’s out getting supplies right now. Welcome to our shop.”

Junhong nods. “Thank you.”

Victoria smiles up at Junhong, then Yongguk. “Well then, Yongguk-sshi, what’s your wish? I know you didn’t just come here to talk.”

Yongguk crosses his arms above his chest. “Did you have a customer who sold her heart recently? She goes by the name Lee Misook.”

“We probably ate it already,” Krystal says in such a serious deadpan that Junhong panics for a moment, but no one else pays any mind to the comment. She steps away from the shelves to stand beside Victoria and Amber behind the counter, leveling Junhong and Yongguk with a disinterested gaze.

Amber pulls a ledger out from underneath the counter, weathered and faded decades beyond their time. “We haven’t had someone sell their heart in a while. Shouldn’t be too hard to find her.”

Victoria places a hand on the ledger, swiftly closing it with a flick of her wrist. The pages fly shut, and Amber takes a step back. “What do you plan to do with this information?”

“She’s the dragon who’s been flying all over West Acres. She got a sigil tattooed from me, but the sigil is incompatible with her because she sold her heart––“

“And what makes you think she sold her heart to us?” Victoria asks, tilting her head.

“Because you’re the only shop in town that accepts _hearts_ as viable payment,” Yongguk replies.

The magic in the air seems to crackle as both Yongguk and Victoria’s auras interact, almost competing against each other. Junhong feels the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his arms erupt in goosebumps beneath his jacket.

“She can’t control her magic unless we get her heart back. The magic from my sigil has already taken hold in her body now that it’s healed properly,” Yongguk says, seemingly ignoring the electricity in the air.

Victoria shrugs, nonchalant as she opens the ledger again. “You said her name was Lee Misook?”

Yongguk nods.

Victoria scans the ledger, a thin finger running down the finely written transactions. She stops. “Here. Lee Misook sold her heart in exchange for a spell.”

Junhong frowns, looking between the yellowed pages of the ledger and up to Victoria’s composed face. That’s such a hefty price. What kind of spell is equal to the value of a _heart?_

“What kind of spell?” Yongguk asks.

“Healing,” Krystal replies this time. She glances down at the ledger. “I remember making it for her. She said someone important had gotten in a car accident, and apparently this person wasn’t going to make it. She was pretty desperate.”

Junhong looks down at the ledger, his eyes widening at the year the transaction was made. _1915_. He’s finding too many puzzle pieces that he doesn’t know how to put together.

Amber leans forward on the counter, her elbows pressed against the glass, her amused smile directed right at Junhong. “Have you met a reincarnated before?”

Junhong stares at Amber. He’s only heard of them in myths and vague stories among his friends, but for as long as he’s lived, he’s only been told that reincarnation was meant for the ones cursed to cycle through their lives for eternity until they found a way to break out. He shakes his head.

Amber nods in understanding. “This Misook is one, I’m guessing. So is the one she sold her heart for. But if Misook is the dragon in the sky, my guess is that she’s outlived this ‘important person’ several lifetimes just because of their different magic, if this other person has magic in the first place.”

Junhong thinks back to Misook, then to Sowon, wondering what they did in their first lifetime to curse them to reincarnation.

“Don’t give him information unless he can pay for it,” Krystal says, nudging Amber with her elbow.

Amber shrugs, leaning back, her hands in her pockets. “It’s fine. A little leak won’t hurt.”

“She’s right, Amber,” Victoria says, closing the ledger and sliding it back beneath the counter. “You know the consequences.”

Junhong looks at Yongguk, but he doesn’t look away from any of the women, his expression carefully neutral. Junhong realizes now that this is what Yongguk meant when he said _I’ll talk to them_. Everything in this shop has a price, even the information they give out, and there’s nothing that Yongguk can do to stop that.

“What…should I give you?” Junhong asks, looking at Amber.

Amber looks up, almost thoughtful, pursing her lips in thought. She snaps her fingers, looking back at Junhong. “How about a memory? Nothing too significant. A childhood memory, even. Just a small moment when you were happy?”

Junhong shrugs. “Um… There was a time when I fell off my broom… I scraped my knee… And I went back to my mom in the house… She sat me on the counter as she cleaned my knee. She was singing something… A lullaby to calm me.”

Amber grins. “Perfect.” She reaches out a hand, beckoning Junhong closer. “Close your eyes. Think of the memory.”

Junhong thinks of the terror her felt when he tumbled off his broom, the sharp stinging pain that erupted from his knee, the cries he held back as he rushed back to his mother in the house, the song she hummed as she cleaned the dirt and blood, the smile she gave him as she kissed the colorful bandage.

 _“See, it’s all better now, right?”_ she asked.

“Good,” Amber says, her voice soothing as she presses light fingers against Junhong’s forehead. “Keep thinking about it.”

So Junhong thinks of his mother’s face, smiling and ever patient in his mind’s eye. She sang softly to him, occasionally looking up at him as he held back the urge to cry. Then, the song distorts, his mother’s face blurs, the stinging pain in his knee numbs. Like a photo fading and growing desaturated with time, the memory begins to fade––

And then it’s gone, the gap smoothed over so fine in his mind that he’s momentarily lost.

“Open your eyes,” Amber says.

Junhong blinks, staring at Amber, then Krystal, then Victoria. A small jar sits in Amber’s hand, the liquid inside it glowing––sparkling even. It makes Junhong ache for something he can’t exactly place. He stares at in wonder, trying to figure out what he’s feeling. He knows that’s his payment, but when he tries to remember exactly what he paid, his memory skips over it like a jump from one scene to the next in a movie.

“It’s been a while since we had any innocence like this,” Victoria muses, taking the jar into her fingers. She smiles at Junhong. “Thank you.”

Junhong is immediately taken aback by how stunningly genuine her smile is that it takes him a moment to respond. “Y-yeah. No problem.”

Yongguk places a hand on Junhong’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. “Are you done messing with my apprentice?”

All three women look at Yongguk, their expressions ranging at various levels of disinterest. He doesn’t back down, and Junhong gulps nervously as he glances between them. The tension is heavy enough to choke him, and he wants to leave before he actually forgets how to breathe.

“So, what are you going to do for this Misook?” Victoria asks, crossing her arms.

“I need to get her heart back to her,” Yongguk replies. “I’ll pay for it.”

Amber and Krystal look at each other while Victoria narrows her eyes. “I’m sure you know the price of that.”

Yongguk nods.

Junhong looks at Yongguk, his eyes widening. The only price equivalent to a heart is another heart. Does Yongguk seriously plan to give up his own heart for his _client’s?_ How could he even consider doing that?

Victoria shakes her head. “Well, you’re out of luck. A kumiho just bought her heart a couple days ago.”

Junhong pales. A kumiho? How are they supposed to get a _heart_ back from a _kumiho?_ As far as they know, she’s probably eaten the heart already. And even if she hasn’t, there’s no way she’s going to let that heart go so easily.

Yongguk presses his lips into a tight line, but he smiles. “Where can I find this kumiho?”

Victoria tilts her head, raising an eyebrow, almost expectant.

“I know what I have to pay. Honestly, noona, I’d expect you to know me better. Who is the kumiho?” Yongguk replies, smiling still, but Junhong can see the strain.

Is the magic weighing heavy on all of them finally making him cave?

“Her name is Lee Jieun,” Victoria eventually says. “She’s a music producer. You’ll find her in Last Fantasy Studios.”

Yongguk nods, hand still on Junhong’s shoulder. “Thank you for your time.” He begins pulling Junhong back towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“You forgot to pay,” Krystal says.

Yongguk looks back, looking at them in thought. “How about a free sigil tattoo at my shop?”

Amber looks at Victoria with hope in her expression, and Krystal rolls her eyes. Victoria waves a hand, dismissing them. “Acceptable.”

Once Junhong and Yongguk are around the corner, Yongguk lets his shoulders sag with a heaving sigh. He stops, bracing a hand against the wall beside him, and looks down at the ground.

“Hyung?” Junhong says, reaching out towards Yongguk, unsure how to help. “Are you okay?”

Yongguk straightens, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his head from side to side. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just hate going to their shop. Their magic is too overpowering sometimes.”

Junhong hums in agreement, thinking back to the way Yongguk and Victoria’s magic clashed against each other. When Yongguk seems to have gathered himself, Junhong asks, “So… Misook is a reincarnated?”

Yongguk hums. “Yeah, probably, along with Sowon too.” He goes quiet for a moment, contemplative almost. “A dragon like her has an average lifespan of up to a thousand years. Can you imagine outliving your lover… Only to find them again, and then finding out they don’t remember you?”

Junhong tilts his head. Is this part of their curse? He can’t even begin to imagine the kind of grief Misook has gone through, and will continue to go through unless they can figure out how to break out of the cycle.

And then Junhong thinks a little more about their situation, and now how some other things don’t line up.

“Wait… How old are they?” Junhong asks.

Yongguk raises an eyebrow. “Misook and Sowon?”

Junhong shakes his head. “No, not them. I mean… The women in the shop. The ledger they pulled out dates back to earlier than _1915_. I thought immortality was impossible?”

 _Impossible_ is a loose term. A dedicated witch can attain a couple hundred years with their magic, but they can still age, and with age comes inevitable death. Every living being has a set lifespan, and no amount of prolonging the inevitable can actually stop it from coming.

“Oh. It’s their shop itself. They exist in… I guess you could call it an alternate dimension. Time is stopped for them, or at least significantly slowed down,” Yongguk replies. When Junhong responds with confused silence, he continues, “Their shop is some sort of sentient being––I think it’s a demon? If I’m remembering the story correctly, they’re actually customers to the shop itself. They work as the shopkeepers, but they’re paying the price for stronger magic. To the shop, every exchange has its equivalent price. That’s why there are ‘consequences’ when a transaction is paid too little or too much.”

Junhong stares at the ground as they walk down the street. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea of a _sentient shop_. “I…had no idea a thing like that existed.”

Yongguk laughs, patting Junhong’s back. “Welcome to the city. You’ll find a _lot_ more magics the longer you stay with us.” He pulls out his phone, typing something in. “Now, let’s find this Last Fantasy Studios.”

//

Last Fantasy Studios, Junhong soon finds out, is nestled right in the middle of West Acres where the worst of the storm is located. The sky is dim and gray, darker than the district where the Illustrated Man is, almost ominous. The building where Last Fantasy Studios is rests at a busy intersection with a bright sign showing the name, like a shining beacon in a vast, colorless ocean. Junhong stands at the entrance beside Yongguk, staring up at the bold sign and bright glass windows.

“So… This kumiho…is here?” Junhong says.

Yongguk nods. “Yeah. Let’s go inside.”

Junhong follows Yongguk inside, too self-conscious of the way his shoes leave wet tracks on the seemingly spotless floor. Yongguk walks up to the front desk, smiling at the man. The name badge on his shirt reads _Lee Sungjong_.

“Hi, can I help you?” Sungjong asks with a sweet smile.

“Hi, I’m just wondering if it is possible to meet with Lee Jieun? She's a producer here, right?” Yongguk asks.

Sungjong tilts his head. “She is. Do you have any scheduled business with her today?”

Yongguk opens his mouth to reply, and Junhong sees him tense, not enough to be immediately noticeable. “No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry, she’s out at the moment. Maybe I can take a message for you?” Sungjong asks, turning back to his computer.

Yongguk shakes his head. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

Sungjong smiles at them again as they turn back around to the entrance.

“Hyung, what are we going to do now?” Junhong whispers as they leave through the double automatic doors.

Yongguk shrugs. “I’ll figure something out.”

As they round the corner, a woman, no taller than Junhong’s chest, comes around with a bag of food in her hands. She stumbles back, and Junhong swears he sees something angry flash in her eyes before she composes herself. She takes a step back, bowing her head and spluttering a soft apology.

Junhong catches sight of her name badge, hanging from her neck on a Last Fantasy Studios lanyard. He glances at her name and holds back a gasp.

“Lee Jieun?” Junhong asks.

Jieun’s eyes widen. She looks back and forth between Junhong and Yongguk, narrowing her eyes. “Yes?”

Yongguk steps in front of Junhong, almost blocking him from Jieun. “Hi, sorry to disturb you, but we’re wondering if you could answer some questions for us?”

Jieun laughs, a little uneasy, a little amused. “Am I being interrogated for something? This feels like an interrogation.”

“Just a few questions,” Yongguk says, holding his hands up, and Junhong detects a hint of desperation creeping into Yongguk’s tone. He knows the image he poses over her, and he’s trying to minimize the potential damage. “Please?”

Jieun sighs, taking a step back from them. “Alright. Go ahead.”

“Do you know about Wishing Well?” Yongguk asks. “It’s––

“In the magics district. Yes, I know about it,” Jieun replies. She tilts her head. “What about it?”

Yongguk pauses, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to find the right words. “I don’t know how else to put this, but, uh, have you bought a heart from there recently?”

In an instant, Jieun’s eyes narrow and something flashes atop her head like a ghostly image superimposed on top of her. And then it’s gone. She seems to bite the inside of her cheek, and she smiles, moving her bag of food so it hangs behind her legs instead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about? I know about the shop, but I’ve never been there before,” Jieun says.

Junhong realizes that the image that had appeared behind her was a fox, teeth bared and ears pressed close to its head like…like it was preparing for a confrontation.

Jieun is definitely the kumiho, and…she felt threatened by that question.

Yongguk begins to bow his head, an apology already on the tip of his tongue, but Junhong peeks above Yongguk’s head.

“Jieun-sshi, that heart belongs to the dragon who’s been up in the sky, and she needs her heart back to regain control of her magic. Do you still have it?” Junhong asks.

Jieun frowns, tilting her head. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yongguk begins tugging Junhong back. “I’m so sorry, we must have––“

“You’re a kumiho. We know you are,” Junhong says, pressing forward. “Jieun-sshi, the city is going to flood if that dragon keeps flying around every night. Please––“

Jieun throws her hands up, her eyes growing wide. She looks around them, glancing behind herself before leaning towards them. “Alright, alright, _fine_. If I talk to you, will you not tell the whole city about me?”

Junhong blinks, then glances at Yongguk, who looks back at him. They both look at Jieun, who looks visibly more annoyed than before.

“Oh. Okay. Sure,” Yongguk says, unsure.

Jieun walks between them, her bag of food swinging in her hand beside her, back towards Last Fantasy Studios. “Follow me, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m gay for girl groups. specifically second gen kpop girl groups. ugh my queens.


	11. Chapter 11

Jieun sits in a chair before Yongguk and Junhong, her arms crossed in front of her and staring at them as they explain the entire situation to her. Her bag of food sits a couple feet from them on the table piled high with sheet music and a soundboard. A monitor displays a music file, the sound bytes layered over each other in a rainbow of colors.

“So,” Jieun says, taking a deep breath, “this heart you mentioned. The one I bought from Wishing Well…belongs to the dragon that’s been up in the sky for the past few weeks.”

Yongguk nods. “Yes. If you still have it, we’d like it back so we can return it to her.”

Jieun shrugs. “I already ate it.”

Junhong feels his stomach sink to the ground. Yongguk visibly stiffens beside him. She…already ate it. What are they supposed to do now? If Misook doesn’t get her heart back, there’s no telling what might happen to the city, but most of all, to her. The amount of times she’s already transformed is bound to have immense ramifications on her energy and physical body.

“You…did?” Yongguk asks.

Jieun nods, and it’s frustrating to see her act so…remorseless, like this isn’t person’s life on the line. “Well, yes, what else was I supposed to do with it? It’s not like I had any other options.”

“Why?” Junhong asks before he can even stop to think about what he’s saying. “How can you eat someone else’s heart without…without a second thought?”

Jieun smiles, leaning forward in her seat, and Junhong thinks her expression turns almost a little menacing. He feels his chest squeeze, getting infinitesimally tighter with each passing second. He feels like his chest might collapse. “Do _you_ think about the impact you have, no matter how small? The things you eat. The potions you concoct. The spells you cast. Everything has its own consequence. Do _you_ think about that every time you do something?”

Junhong blinks. Jieun takes a deep breath, leaning back, and the pressure on his chest disappears.

“It’s hard to think about every life that was attached to every heart I’ve eaten without feeling any sort of regret. I’m just trying to make an honest living in this city,” Jieun says, looking down briefly. When she looks back up, there’s a sort of edge to her gaze that makes Junhong shiver. “I didn’t ask for this demon to possess me. If I’d known that the owner of the that heart was still alive, I wouldn’t have bought it.”

Junhong can’t help but stare into Jieun’s eyes, caught in the gleam of it. He gulps, finding himself drawn in.

“Well, if that’s the case,” Yongguk suddenly says, placing a hand on Junhong’s shoulder. Junhong blinks, as if snapped out of a trance, and glances at Yongguk. “We’ll take our leave now. Thank you for your time.”

Jieun shakes her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be much help.”

Yongguk smiles and bows his head as he leads Junhong outside. As soon as the door closes, Yongguk slumps his shoulders with a sigh. “Come on, Junhong, let’s go home.”

Junhong doesn’t like the uneasiness swirling his stomach, acidic and bubbling something foul up his throat. “That’s it? Is there nothing else we can do?”

Yongguk is quiet for a moment, instead focusing his gaze straight ahead of him before turning to Junhong with a tight-lipped smile. “I think there’s something else I might be able to do.”

Junhong thinks back to the shop. He sees the resolve in Yongguk’s eyes, and he panics. “No.”

“What?” Yongguk asks, momentarily confused, and comes to a stop. He blinks at Junhong, tilting his head. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re thinking of selling your heart for Misook. Hyung, that’s––“ Junhong can’t even think of the right words to say. Misook is suffering, but is Yongguk really willing to go that far? For a client? “Isn’t that…a bit much?”

Yongguk stares at Junhong, his expression unreadable. He begins walking towards the elevator again. “Let’s just go home, Junhong. I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

Junhong doesn’t like the sound of that, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He watches Yongguk’s back, almost slumped as he continues walking down the hall.

//

Dinner that night is engulfed in a stifling silence, save for the clink of silverware on ceramic. Everyone seems to sense the tension that’s followed Yongguk all the way from Last Fantasy Studios. Junhong suddenly doesn’t feel very hungry anymore, instead opting to push the food around in his bowl.

“Hyung, did you find out what’s happening with your client?” Daehyun eventually asks.

Yongguk places his spoon into his bowl. “Misook sold her heart to the witches over at Wishing Well a long time ago, and a kumiho bought her heart, who ate it already.”

Daehyun’s eyes widen. “Wait, hyung, you’re not going to…” His gaze flickers from Yongguk to everyone else, until settling back on Yongguk. “Right?”

Junhong glances at Himchan. He’s glaring at his food, pointedly avoiding looking at Yongguk.

“I’m going to give her my heart,” Yongguk says.

The entire table erupts into chaos. Junhong shrinks back as everyone begins shouting over each other, asking questions and demanding Yongguk to reconsider. Before it can reach a crescendo, Himchan slams his hands on the table. The room falls silent as Himchan stands up, his chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“Bang Yongguk. Window. Now.“ Himchan grits his teeth and pulls Yongguk by the sleeve out the window to the roof. He pulls the door shut, the glass panes shivering from how hard he slammed it.

Junhong looks at Himchan yell at Yongguk, his arms waving all around him, his face growing red. Hecan’t hear anything Himchan is saying. He must have activated a temporary silencing spell. Yongguk places his hands on Himchan’s shoulders, his thumbs rubbing tiny circles into his shoulders, but Himchan shakes his head, shrugging off Yongguk’s hands.

“He can’t be serious, can he?” Youngjae asks. He turns to Junhong, his eyes wide. “Is he serious? What _happened_ today?”

Junhong nods, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Exactly what he said. We can’t get her original heart back, so Yongguk-hyung is trying to find another way to get her a heart.”

“And he can’t think of anyone else but his,” Jongup says.

Junhong nods again. He glances back outside. Both Yongguk and Himchan are crying. Misook flies in the sky above them, a glowing turquoise speck in the distance against the sheets of rain pouring down in the city. He stands up, grabbing his bowl to dump his last bits of food into the trash.

“Junhong?” Daehyun calls out, craning his neck to get a view of Junhong over the counter. “Are you done already?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for dinner, hyung,” Junhong replies, trudging up the steps to the loft.

He collapses onto his futon with a sigh. He hates how desperately he wants to help, but just…can’t. He hates how useless he feels. Yongguk was the first one to help him when he got here, and he doesn’t want to just sit idly by while Yongguk tries to solve this whole mess by himself. He hears the window open again, but neither Yongguk or Himchan are speaking. Junhong peeks through the bars in the railing to see Yongguk head into his and Himchan’s separated space while Himchan storms off into the bathroom.

Junhong grits his teeth, grabbing his broom and jacket from the corner of the loft and heading back downstairs. He ignores the stares from from the other three following him as he makes his way to the window.

“Where are you going with your broom?” Youngjae asks. “Not exactly optimal conditions to be flying, don’t you think?”

“I’m just going to practice for a little bit,” Junhong replies, ignoring whatever everyone else has to say to him. If he doesn’t get out now, he’ll never gather up the courage to do this again. It has to be now.

Junhong climbs up to the roof, his broom between his bent knees, as he prepares to take off. The rain is getting in his eyes, even with his hood up. He feels his entire body shiver, a sort of tremor that’s deep in his bones, and he knows it’s not just the cold getting to him. He can feel his feet slowly lift off the roof.

“You’re not actually going to practice.”

Junhong stumbles, nearly crashing back onto the roof, but he manages to catch himself. He spins around to find Jongup there with an umbrella in his hand.

“If you’re thinking of going to Wishing Well, you’re crazy,” Jongup says. He shakes his head in disbelief. “How are you already taking on Yongguk-hyung’s worst qualities?”

“He helped me when I first came here. I’m only returning the favor,” Junhong replies. He turns back around to try and take off again.

“We could find another way,” Jongup says.

“Not at the rate that Yongguk-hyung is going. I doubt Himchan-hyung managed to change his mind earlier,” Junhong says. He’s already floating several feet up.

“And I’m guessing I can’t change your mind either?” Jongup asks.

Junhong twists his back to face Jongup, his breath catching when he sees the sadness in Jongup’s eyes. And yes, Junhong is scared out of his mind, but he doesn’t want to see this group of people, this _family_ , fall apart because he decided not to take the fall for Yongguk. So, he grits his teeth, and faces forward again.

“I’ll see you later tonight, hyung.”

Junhong has flown in rain before, but nothing like this. He can barely see in front of him, save for the blur of lights down below him. He flies by everything, blurred and muddied by the rain like an oil painting. He knows where Wishing Well is, though. He lands on the sidewalk, wiping the raindrops from his face as he pulls the shop door open.

The bells on the door announce his arrival, and he basks in the warmth that envelopes him as he steps inside.

“Sorry, we’re about to close–– Oh. You’re back. And dripping like a wet dog,” Krystal says from behind the counter. She doesn’t even try hiding the disdain on her face. “Stay there. Keep your broom by the door”

Junhong stands frozen by the doorway as Krystal plucks a wand from a mug behind the counter. She mumbles something in an unfamiliar language, waving the wand in his general direction, and suddenly, he’s dry. The puddle of water floats above his head, suspended in the air by her magic. He watches her open the door behind him and throw the water outside.

Junhong has never seen anyone manipulate magic as well as Krystal just did. Not even his own mother.

“Now, what can we help you with?” Krystal asks.

“I want to save Lee Misook,” Junhong says.

Krystal frowns, her eyebrows pulling together as her eyes scan him. “You know what that means, right?”

Junhong nods. “You’re the only shop in the city that can extract hearts, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’d be correct,” another voice says.

Junhong looks past Krystal to see an unfamiliar woman walk out of a back room separated by a curtain. There’s a kind aura around her, soft and nurturing and welcoming. Krystal immediately steps aside as Luna crosses the shop to them.

“My name is Luna. You must be Yongguk’s apprentice,” she says, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Junhong, right?”

Junhong is a little uneasy upon learning that Luna already knows his name. Were they talking about him earlier?

“It’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” Junhong says, taking Luna’s hand. Her grip is strong, but her hand is cold.

“You too. So, you’re here to extract your heart in order to save Misook,” Luna says, bringing her hand back to her side. “There is a price for that service.”

“What is it?” Junhong asks. He’s already here. His mind is made up. He can’t go back now.

“We keep half of your heart.” Luna stares at Junhong, specifically his chest, almost like she’s already eyeing it.

Junhong furrows his brows. “Will Misook still be okay if… If it’s only half a heart?”

Luna hums, her eyes dragging up Junhong’s frame to look him in the eye. “Her problem is that she has no heart. If she even has half, that should be enough to calm her magic.”

“Did Yongguk send you here?” Krystal suddenly asks, her arms crossed above her chest. That mild look of disdain is still on her face, and Junhong isn’t sure if that’s just her. “To give up your heart?”

Junhong shakes his head. “No. He… He doesn’t know I’m here. He would have come here on his own. I figured… I might as well beat him to it.”

Luna clicks her tongue. “He’s raised another martyr.” She walks around the counter, pulling up a ledger from beneath it, newer than the one with Misook’s name in it. She flips it open to a page only filled through halfway. “Are you aware of the risks that come with removing your heart?”

“No,” Junhong says. The look that Luna and Krystal share––uneasy and concerned––make him shuffle his feet. “I know it’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Your heart is essentially your soul, and without it, there is nothing to synthesize with your magic.” Luna nods outside. “In Misook’s case, her magic began synthesizing with the sigil tattoo she got, creating an unstable relationship within the vessel of her body, accelerating her loss of control.”

“Do you understand?” Krystal asks. The way she looks at Junhong… It’s like she’s trying to convince him not to follow through.

Junhong nods. “So, I just have to make sure I don’t do anything that makes my magic unstable.”

Krystal’s frown deepens, but Luna only nods. “Yes.” She pauses, her eyes running over Junhong once again. “Are you sure you want to continue with this?”

Junhong grits his teeth. “If I wasn’t sure, I would’ve walked out by now.”

“I like him.” Krystal snorts as she walks out from behind the counter to the curtained doorway. “I’ll get the room ready.”

“Thank you.” Luna pulls a pen from a cup to the side and begins writing inside the ledger. “What is your full name?”

“Choi Junhong.”

Luna writes his name on the paper, and there’s something about seeing it written down places a weight on his chest that threatens to choke him out. He grips the counter to stop the trembling in his vision. She glances up at him, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Breathe.”

Junhong meets her eyes, and she smiles. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His head spins as the air rushes into his lungs.

Luna holds the pen out to Junhong. “I need you to sign here.” She points to the blank space on the page beside his name. “A signature is a binding contract. I need to know that you’re absolutely sure about this.”

Junhong nods again, not trusting his voice enough to speak. He takes the pen from Luna’s hand, and immediately signs in the space. He stares at his name on the paper, and his heart pounds in his chest and rushes in his ears.This is real. This is happening. There’s no backing down now. A signature is a binding contract, unbreakable by no one.

This is it.

Luna closes the ledger with a smile. “Thank you. For privacy reasons, we’ll be doing this in a separate room. Please come with me.”

Junhong follows Luna towards the back room. She holds the curtain back, leading him into a short hallway with two doors on either side. She opens the second door to the left, holding it open for him to walk through. It’s nothing like he expected it. It’s as sterile as a doctor’s office with bright lights and a cot in the corner. White cabinets line the wall above a counter with a sink on the left wall. Krystal walks out and nods to Luna as she walks inside.

“Please sit down.” Luna motions to the cot, then opens up the cabinet, pulling out a dark blue vial among a row of many.

Junhong sits down on the cot, perched right at the edge, his hands trembling at his sides. He watches Luna uncap the vial and pour the contents into a clear cup. She hands it to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Take your time,” she says as she walks back to lean against the counter. “You’ll experience a little pain at first.”

Junhong blinks. This is it. He stares at the potion swirling in the cup in his hands, and brings it to his lips, tipping his head back to drink it all down. It’s sour in his mouth and slides like oil down his throat. He stares at Luna, waiting in tense silence for the potion to take effect. He feels a warmth bloom in his chest, soft and radiant in one second and then unbearable in the next. He can feel his heart hammering like it’s about to burst out of his chest. There’s something crawling just beneath his skin.

Junhong’s mouth falls open as he leans forward, clutching his chest. The cup falls to the floor with a sharp clatter. He looks up at Luna, not knowing what to do. “What––“ He gasps as he feels the need to retch. He dry heaves several times.

Something is coming up his throat, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He squeezes his eyes shut, just waiting for the pain to pass. He coughs and gags several more times. His hand flies to his mouth as something emerges from him. He pulls his hand back, he’s holding…a blob, no bigger than the palm of his hand. It glows a light blue, beating erratically. He looks up at Luna, still trying to catch his breath.

Is this his heart?

 _This_ is the essence of his soul?

Luna takes Junhong’s heart carefully into her hands, cradling it as if it were a small animal. She stares at it for a moment, eyes wide in wonder. “Such a naive heart. So young… Unburdened by the evils of this world. Thank you.”

Junhong doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he doesn’t. He watches Luna place his heart on the counter. She removes a dagger from one of the drawers, ceremonial with intricate designs carved into the handle. She lifts it up and brings it down with a swift slice straight through the middle. A sharp, piercing pain shoots through Junhong’s chest, but it’s gone just as soon.

Luna takes each half of Junhong’s heart and places them into separate glass boxes. She hands one to Junhong with a smile.

“Thank you for doing business with us. You’re welcome to stay here for a few more moments to gather yourself.”

Junhong blinks at the casualness of her tone. “Thank you, but, uh, I should get going.”

Junhong stands up, and he almost jumps up from how much lighter he feels. It’s as if a physical weight has been lifted from his chest, but it feels nothing like relief. There’s the sense of deep foreboding in the pit of his stomach still, but he ignores it as he heads back out to the front of the shop.

“This is his _broom_. Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Krystal says, her voice distant and bored.

Junhong freezes. Yongguk is here. Did Jongup tell him? Did Himchan see this and tell Yongguk? He can’t bear to face Yongguk right now. He turns back to the room, back to Luna, who’s currently cleaning up the vial. She looks up, tilting her head.

“Um, is there a back exit?” Junhong asks, trying to keep his voice low.

“Hey! That area’s off-limits!” Krystal exclaims as hurried footsteps land on the floor.

The swish of the curtain being pushed aside is loud in the silence of the shop. Junhong turns his head slowly to find Yongguk there with Krystal and Jongup behind him. He stares at Junhong with wide eyes, which eventually drift down to the half-heart beating in the box in his hands. A hundred emotions flicker across Yongguk’s face, but he eventually settles on a resignation that Junhong never thought he’d see on Yongguk’s face.

“Junhong, what have you done?” Yongguk whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, welcome to junhong's delivery castle in the sky.
> 
> anyway sorry long time no update lmao


	12. Chapter 12

Junhong tries to hide the box behind him, swallowing the painful lump stuck in his throat. Yongguk strides forward, the anger clear in his face, and Junhong reels back, stumbling back against a wall. He grunts at the contact, unable to look away from Yongguk.

“Why?” Yongguk whispers, grabbing onto Junhong’s wrists and pulling the box back into view. Junhong’s heartbeat rushes in his ears. “What made you think this was a good idea?”

Junhong feels searing hot shame shoot through him. “You were about to do the same thing.”

“Well, yes, but–– You shouldn’t–– That’s not––“ Yongguk takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

Junhong swallows the thick and painful lump that has lodged into his throat. He grits his teeth. He’s already signed the contract. Half of his heart sits in a box in his hands. There’s no going back now. “Yes, I know. I just didn’t want… You’ve done so much for me, for everyone else, and I…” He watches Yongguk’s expression change from incredulous anger to something akin to sadness. No, disappointment. “I didn’t want to see you sacrifice any more than you already have.”

“You…” Yongguk trails off, and then he takes the few steps forward to close the distance between them. Junhong tenses, not knowing what to expect, but Yongguk wraps his arms around Junhong’s, tight and all-encompassing, his head hooked over Junhong’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I made my choice already, hyung,” Junhong says, his breath catching. He suddenly realizes the gravity of what he’s done.

“I know,” Yongguk says, squeezing tighter before letting go. He looks down at the box still in Junhong’s hand. “I just wish there was another way.”

Junhong nods, bringing the box down to his side. “Yeah, but there isn’t.” He looks past Yongguk at Jongup still standing just behind the curtain. “Hey, hyung.”

Jongup’s expression is unreadable. “Hey.”

“He told me after Himchan saw you in one of his visions,” Yongguk explains, then turns to look at Jongup. “Though, I would’ve liked it if he told me _earlier_.”

Jongup looks down at his feet, unable to meet either Junhong or Yongguk’s eyes. “Sorry.”

Before anyone can say anything else, a loud clap of thunder resounds throughout the streets, followed by an echoing roar––but it sounds more like an anguished cry. Junhong pushes through the curtain and out into the downpour. He looks up, squinting into the sheets of rain, at the writhing turquoise dragon glowing in the cloudy sky. Lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating Junhong’s entire world for half a second before plunging him in the dim streetlights again. He watches swaths of helicopters hover nearby.

What do they plan to do with her?

“Junhong, come back inside,” Yongguk says through the open door. “You’ll get sick.”

Junhong spins around to see Yongguk and Jongup standing in the doorway, just under the overhang. Kyrstal and Luna stare at him from just behind them. He looks back at Misook. He can feel the warmth emanating from his heart through the glass box. He gulps. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to her by the end of the night.

“Junhong,” Jongup calls.

“I need my broom,” Junhong says, turning to look at them again. He darts back inside to fetch his broom, ignoring Yongguk and Jongup’s protests. He stands outside in the rain again, broom between his legs and his heart secured in his jacket pocket. “I have to help her!”

“Junhong, you’ve done enough today, you––“

Junhong doesn’t hear the rest of what Yongguk has to say because he’s already in the sky. Except his broom begins to fly erratically. He struggles to get his broom under control, and he nearly collides sideways into a building. He kicks off the window with a yelp, shooting into the building across the street. He kicks off a brick wall before finally jerking upwards. He can barely see. He can’t feel the skin of his face, just the pinpricks of water pelting against him. As he travels higher, the rhythmic beat of the helicopters’ blades going all at once begins to be the only thing he can hear. He crashes onto the roof of a building, his legs already moving to keep his momentum. He jumps off the edge, eyes widening as he doesn’t feel his magic immediately flow from him. He grits his teeth, willing his broom to obey, but his magic is coming out in uneven spurts, manifesting itself into jerking movements.

This is what Luna meant when she said his magic won’t have anything to synthesize with anymore.

“Come on, just a little more,” Junhong urges as he grows closer to the helicopters and Misook.

A floodlight suddenly flashes on Junhong. He blinks into the light, almost pausing, but he shakes his head and continues up. It doesn’t help him see any better, but he can still make out Misook’s serpentine form. He never gave much thought about how large her dragon form is, but the closer he gets, he’s beginning to realize the scale. The length of his body doesn’t even reach to half her own length.

“Stop right there, witch,” a deep voice commands over a speaker from one of the helicopters.

Junhong doesn’t know which one it came from, but he yells back, “I can help her!” He isn’t sure if they heard him over the helicopter blades.

“We’ll take you in too if we have to,” the voice continues.

Junhong tightens his grip on his broomstick and flies closer to Misook. He flies close to her left eye, hoping he can get her attention. He sees her eye track him, then blink. Does she recognize him? “Misook-sshi!” He yelps as he dips in the air, and he has to climb up again. “Misook-sshi, can you hear me?!”

The dragon huffs, then her tail flicks, kicking up a gust of wind that throws Junhong to the side. He spins out of control, and, for a single panicked moment, he doesn’t know where he’s hurtling towards. He tries to regain control before he collides with one of the helicopters. He darts back towards Misook.

“Misook-sshi, I’m here to help you!” Junhong exclaims. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his heart to hold towards her. “This heart–– It’s for you!”

Misook’s eye widens. Junhong swears the noise that comes from Misook’s mouth sounds like relief. He balances on his broomstick and holds the box in both his hands. He struggles to get it open because the edges are too slick with water and his hands are trembling.

“Get away from the dragon, witch!” the same voice from the helicopters exclaims.

Junhong ignores them. He continues to struggle with the box. “I just… Need to… Get this open.”

The lid pops open and falls to the ground. He takes his heart in his hand, gulping at the pulsing warmth in his palm. He looks at Misook, and she stares at him expectantly. She isn’t moving as erratically as before.

“This is your last warning!”

“Wait!” Junhong shouts. His magic shoots out of him for a split second, sending the helicopters back several feet. He stares in disbelief for a moment. He forces himself to focus. “How do I do this?” He looks back and forth between his heart and Misook, but he doesn’t think she’ll be much help at the moment.

Junhong curses under his breath. He hovers around Misook, his mind going through as many ideas as he can. If it came up his throat, it should…go back down, right? He circles around to Misook’s front. This should be how it works, right?

“Misook-sshi! Please open your mouth!” Junhong exclaims. He holds up the heart, getting ready to throw. She nods and opens her mouth. He shivers at the sight of her teeth––which are easily as tall as him.

Junhong takes a deep breath and throws the heart into Misook’s mouth. He watches as she swallows, the glow of the heart showing through her scales.

“Please work,” Junhong whispers.

The helicopters are closing in now. “You’re under arrest!”

Misook’s eyes close and her form begins to ripple, then disappears in a burst of glowing raindrops, leaving her unconscious human form to fall into the open air.

“Wait–– No!” Junhong shouts.

He dives after Misook. The wind whips around him. The floodlights are still on him. But he’s only focused on saving Misook. He holds his hand out. He’s practically falling off his broom. There are people gathered below them, watching them in anticipation. He urges his broom faster, stretches his arm a little further. They’re speeding past the buildings now, gray and white all blurring past him. He can almost brush his fingers against Misook’s.

“Please. Just a little more,” Junhong whispers.

Junhong’s hand wraps around Misook’s wrist, and he winces as he tries to hold all her weight. He slips off his broom, his other hand the only thing keeping them from falling to their death. The rain is still falling. There are cheers and shouts coming from below him. He looks down at Misook, then the people on the ground. As he begins to lower himself to the ground, he can hear just how chaotic everything is. The floodlights still on him illuminate the entire street. The crowd below them begins to part.

“Misook!”

Junhong searches the crowd and finds Sowon making her way through. She makes it into the circle, looking up at them with wide eyes. As soon as Misook is within reach, Sowon has her arms wrapped around her. She looks at Junhong, and he half-expects her to start yelling at him, but she smiles at him, full of relief.

“Thank you,” Sowon says, picking up Misook into her arms.

Junhong sets his feet on solid ground, and he’s about to speak to her, but he’s suddenly swarmed by people. News reporters, civilians, police officers. He spins around, quickly growing overwhelmed by the chaos swirling around him. He holds his broom close to his chest as people begin shouting questions––some accusations––at him.

“Junhong!”

The voice cuts through everything, and Junhong cranes his neck above the crowd to pick out the source of the voice. Himchan barrels through the wall of people to Junhong, his face hardened. He grabs onto Junhong’s wrist and begins pulling him, but the people only follow them.

“Hyung, I––“

“You, young man!”

Junhong catches a squad of police officers coming after him, and Himchan stops pulling, immediately stepping between them and Junhong.

“We have to take him in for questioning,” one of the officers says.

“He doesn’t have to come with you anywhere,” Himchan replies, his voice stern. His hand still on Junhong’s wrist acts like an anchor.

“It’s just protocol, sir,” the officer says with a frown.

“That won’t be necessary.” A woman in a wide-brimmed hat comes up behind the officers and smiles. Sowon, still carrying Misook, is right behind her. She takes a badge out of her jacket pocket to show to them. “Kim Yoonji. I’m with the Bureau of Wizardry. I’ll take him from here.”

Junhong feels his stomach sink. He feels Himchan squeeze his wrist, but that doesn’t stop the uneasiness from swirling in his gut.

//

“Am I in trouble?” Junhong asks.

He stands in a massive conference room before a council of five witches––the Bureau of Wizardry, apparently––with just his broom and his soaking clothes. He shivers, but he isn’t sure if it’s his cold clothes, or the cold gazes they fix him with from their seats. He shifts uneasily on his feet. Each one has a name placard sitting in front of them.

Kim Yoonji.

Kan Miyoun.

Kwon Boah.

Baek Jiyoung.

Lee Hyori.

Their combined magic is so powerful, Junhong can feel it pressing down on his chest. It feels different from the magic at Wishing Well, though. Where Wishing Well felt ancient, this magic feels…intimidating, almost. Powerful beyond Junhong’s own understanding.

“No. We just have some questions concerning Lee Misook, and your involvement following her final transformation tonight,” Kan Miyoun says.

“Can we at least dry him off first? He’s getting water all over the tile,” Yoonji says, already getting her wand out.

“Go ahead,” Boah says. She has her arms crossed above her chest, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinizes him. She has a folder in front of her. “Please state your name, age, and occupation for the record.”

Yoonji waves her wand in Junhong’s direction, and the water begins pulling away from him, much like how it did in Wishing Well. He takes a quick note to learn the spell when he has free time. Yoonji takes the water and dumps it in the trash by the door.

“Choi Junhong. Uh, eighteen. And I’m still in my apprenticeship under Bang Yongguk at the Illustrated Man,” Junhong says, nodding his thanks to Yoonji.

Jiyoung raises an eyebrow. “An apprentice?”

Junhong nods, then realizes that they’re recording all this, then says, “Yes. I am.”

“What did you throw into Misook’s mouth before she transformed?” Boah asks.

“Half of my heart,” Junhong replies, and he tightens his grip on his broomstick when all five witches stare at him in surprise, their eyes widening in surprise. “That’s why she wasn’t able to control her transformations… She, uh… She also got a tattoo from the Illustrated Man that caused her to further lose control.”

Boah looks like she’s about to ask another question, but Hyori holds up a hand to stop her. “What made you sacrifice your heart for Misook? Do you have a preexisting relationship with her?”

Junhong shakes his head. He’s been asked that question countless times tonight, and he’s getting tired of having to answer the same thing every time. “I don’t, but Bang Yongguk would have done the same thing. I didn’t… I owe him so much already, and I didn’t want him to sacrifice any more.”

“That’s…awfully altruistic of you,” Yoonji comments, and the rest of the witches hum in agreement.

Junhong doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“Well… That’s all the questions we have for you,” Boah says, looking back down at her folder of papers before looking back at Junhong. “Do you have any questions before we let you go?”

Junhong is drawing a blank. He shakes his head. “No. I don’t.”

“We advise you find a proper synthesizer in place of your heart before the end of the week unless you want to continue facing difficulties with your magic,” Jiyoung suddenly says. “Other than that, you may go. Please send Misook in. Thank you.”

Junhong bows his head at them before leaving the room. He pushes the door open into the waiting area and finds everyone waiting for him. Yongguk stands by the exit while Jongup sits slumped on one of the benches, his head resting on Himchan’s shoulder. Youngjae is the first to pull him into a hug, his arms wrapping tight around his body, followed shortly by Daehyun. Junhong feels his breath slowly leave him from how hard they’re squeezing him.

“Hyung–– I can’t breathe,” Junhong wheezes out. He catches Sowon and Misook sitting on the only plush chairs. He’s never seen Misook look so worn down. He pushes Daehyun and Youngjae away as gently as he can. “Misook-sshi, they called for you now.”

Misook nods, bringing Sowon’s jacket tighter around her shoulders. She stops beside Junhong, placing a trembling hand on his arm. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can possibly repay you.”

Junhong shakes his head with a smile. “It’s okay.”

Misook frowns, but she squeezes Junhong’s arm once more before disappearing into the conference room with Sowon behind her.

As soon as the door closes, Youngjae punches Junhong’s arm.

“Ow?!” Junhong exclaims, his hand flying to clutch his arm. “What was that for, hyung?”

“Who said you could just give up your heart like that?!” Youngjae asks, his eyes on the verge of tears. “We didn’t even want Yongguk to do it!”

“It’s what I wanted to do,” Junhong says, looking at everyone, one-by-one. He repeats what he said to Yongguk earlier. “I made my choice, and there’s no going back now.”

Youngjae bites his bottom lip and wraps his arms around Junhong again.

“Yongguk-hyung, you’re being a bad influence on him,” Daehyun says.

Junhong watches Yongguk turn red in embarrassment. He sees the conflict in Yongguk’s eyes, the anger and disappointment and shame. He reaches his hand out, grabbing onto Yongguk’s arm and squeezing. Yongguk looks up, eyes wide, and Junhong smiles.

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Junhong says, and even if he isn’t sure what’s going to happen to him and his magic, he feels like he can trust them to help him. “I’ll be okay.”

Yongguk smiles back, small and maybe the tiniest bit accepting.

“You need a synthesizer now, don’t you?” Jongup suddenly asks.

Junhong nods. “Yeah. I…don’t even know where to even find something like that.”

“We’ll find something for you,” Himchan says.

A lump begins to form in Junhong’s throat, thick and painful, and he suddenly realizes just how tired he is. He slumps in Youngjae’s arms, burying his face into Youngjae’s shoulder. His eyes begin welling with tears, and he brings his arms up around Youngjae.

“Junhong?” Jongup asks, his voice close by.

Junhong sniffs, rubbing his eyes in the fabric of Youngjae’s shirt. “I’m fine.”

He feels a hand come up to his back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, another pair of arms wraps around his other side. He realizes he’s trembling.

“I’m fine,” Junhong says again, his voice shaking, and he feels stupid for crying, but he’s tired, and he was––still _is_ ––scared, and he doesn’t know what’s going to do now, and–– “I… I’m fine.”

“We got you, don’t worry,” Yongguk says, placing his hand on Junhong’s head.

Junhong nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

//

“How do you feel about a charm as your synthesizer?” Youngjae asks the next week, scrolling through his phone. “There’s this site that sells charms.”

Junhong looks up from his sketchbook. “Hmm… Maybe. Let me see?”

Youngjae turns his phone towards Junhong, showing an array of keychains and charms that apparently act like synthesizers. “I had no idea how common this was.” Youngjae takes his phone back to scroll through more. “Apparently, some people’s souls aren’t at all compatible with their magic, which… Honestly, I didn’t even think that was possible. Anyway, that’s what these charms are for. They’re like… Enchanted with a neutralizing magic to bind to the magic-user, blah, blah, blah. Interesting.”

Junhong hums, placing his chin in his hand as he leans on the counter. “I might get that.”

“Oh. Huh. So, you need to have it on you at all times to be functional. Like, what, you gotta be touching it? Or it has to be in your immediate vicinity? That’s dumb,” Youngjae continues. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Junhong says, going back to his sketchbook.

“A saline wash once a day should be enough to keep it clean until it’s healed. Give it about three to six months before you come back to change out the jewelry.”

“Thank you so much.”

Junhong looks up again to see Himchan walking another customer out of his room. She has a new stud in her nose, shining under the bright lights. Junhong finds his hand coming up to brush against his own nose. He’s always wondered what he’d look like with a piercing there. He waits until the customer is gone and Himchan is heading back into his room to clean up to approach.

“Hyung, can I ask you something?” Junhong asks, coming up behind Himchan.

Himchan looks up from his station, tilting his head. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“The witches at the Bureau said I need something to synthesize with my magic now that I… You know,” Junhong says, unable to finish his sentence completely.

Himchan nods, tossing the trash into the bin by the door. “Yeah, that’s generally how it works.”

“I was wondering… If you your piercings could act as a synthesizer?” Junhong asks.

Himchan is silent for a moment before he grins at Junhong, excited and giddy. “Are you asking me to pierce you?”

Junhong gulps, then nods. If it has to be on his body at all times, then it can’t be something so easily lost like a charm. Besides, he’s always wanted a piercing. “Yeah, I was thinking on my nose. Like your last customer.” He points to his nostril with his pinky finger. “Can you do it?”

Himchan scoffs. “‘Can I do it?’ Of _course_ I can do it. It’ll take me a bit longer because it’s not like my normal enchantments, so we can do it after closing.” He smiles, warm and genuine. “I’d be honored to give you your first piercing.”

Junhong finds himself smiling back.

At the end of the day, Junhong isn’t smiling anymore. He sits in Himchan’s piercing chair, his hands folded in his lap, as his stomach churns. Himchan gets his tools ready at the side, pulling the blue latex gloves on, ripping open the alcohol pad to wipe at Junhong’s skin. It’s cold, and the smell invades his senses.

“Are you ready?” Himchan asks. He pauses. “You’re a little pale.”

Junhong shakes his head. “Just a little nervous.”

Himchan smiles, rubbing Junhong’s arm in reassurance. “Take a couple deep breaths, alright? I’ll make it quick, don’t worry.”

That’s not what Junhong is worried about, though. He thinks back to Misook and her tattoo, and he’s afraid that his magic won’t be compatible with it. What if his body rejects it? What if something goes wrong? What’s he going to do, then?

“Are you sure about this?” Himchan asks, looking down at Junhong.

“Yeah. Just do it. I won’t know if I like it unless I do it,” Junhong replies, steeling himself.

“Alright.” Himchan removes the needle from its packaging. “Take a deep breath through your mouth. You can close your eyes if you have to.”

Junhong does. He draws in a deep breath until his lungs are completely full, and on the exhale, he feels the needle pierce through his skin, a sharp jolt of pain that shoots through him. He winces, but he tries to keep his face even. He opens his eyes, just a crack, and he knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but he still is when he sees the needle sticking out of his nose. He sees Himchan preparing the stud on the table beside them, and when he turns to Junhong, he laughs.

“What?” Junhong asks.

“I’ve never seen your eyes go that wide before,” Himchan replies. He quickly composes himself, slipping back into his professional mode. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Junhong watches as Himchan works, his hands deftly working the needle out and replacing it with the stud. He feels blood trickle from the piercing, but Himchan drops the needle onto the table and comes back with a tissue, dabbing gently until he’s cleaned it all up. The initial pain wasn’t even that bad, now it’s been replaced by a dull, radiating pain that pulses in waves.

Himchan wipes at the piercing one more time with a clean tissue before leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Alright, we’re done.”

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, Junhong feels a sort of relief flood him. He can feel the chaotic mess of magic that’s been swirling around inside him begin to settle, and he…starts feeling like himself again.

“Do you wanna see it?” Himchan asks, grabbing a hand-mirror hanging from the wall and giving it to Junhong.

Junhong looks at himself, his eyes drifting to the stud in his nose, and he feels a little imbalanced, if he’s going to be honest. One side of his face feels heavier than the other, but it’s an interesting irony. This imbalance is the one thing calming his magic.

Junhong looks at Himchan with a grin. “Thanks, hyung.”

He looks into the mirror again. He knew he’d like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me making ns yoon g one of the head witches after listening to the reason i became a witch: oh this is gonna be so fucking funny
> 
> also wow i can’t believe it’s already been a year since i started this we’ve come a long way folks

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://www.guernica-flow.tumblr.com) if you wanna lmao


End file.
